aia 


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Great  Rivers  of  the  World 


FAMOUS  MARVELS 

AND  MASTERPIECES 

OF  THE  WORLD 

As  Seen  and  Described  by  Great  Writers 

Collected  and  Edited  by 

ESTHER  SINGLETON 


Famous  Paintings 

Great  Pictures 

Modern  Paintings 

Great  Portraits 

Wonders  of  the  World 

Wonders  of  Nature 

Famous  Women 

Romantic  Castles  and  Palaces 

Turrets,  Towers  and  Temples 

Historic  Buildings  of  America 

Historic  Landmarks  of  America 

Great  Rivers  of  the  World 

Famous  Sculpture 

Famous  Cathedrals 

Fourteen  volumes  in  all.    Profusely  illustrated. 
Each  sold  separately. 

You  can  get  any  of  the  series  where  you  bought 
this  book  and  at  the  same  price. 


Great  Rivers  of  the  World 


As  Seen  and   Described 
By    Famous  Writers 


COLLECTED  AND  EDITED  BY 
ESTHER  SINGLETON 


With  Numerous  Illustrations 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1908,  by 
DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


Published,  November,  1908 


Preface 

RIVERS  possess  so  many  varied  attractions  and  have 
so  many  claims  on  the  attention  of  the  student  of 
science  and  history,  the  pleasure-seeker,  the  traveller,  the 
poet  and  the  painter,  that  no  apology  need  be  offered  for 
gathering  into  one  volume  selections  from  the  works  of 
those  who  have  described  some  of  the  most  famous  streams 
of  the  world.  Lyell  says  :  "  Rivers  are  the  irrigators  of 
the  earth's  surface,  adding  alike  to  the  beauty  of  the  land- 
scape and  the  fertility  of  the  soil :  they  carry  off  impurities 
and  every  sort  of  waste  debris  ;  and  when  of  sufficient  vol- 
ume, they  form  the  most  available  of  all  channels  of  com- 
munication with  the  interior  of  continents.  They  have 
ever  been  things  of  vitality  and  beauty  to  the  poet,  silent 
monitors  to  the  moralist,  and  agents  of  comfort  and  civili- 
zation to  all  mankind." 

Thoreau  says :  "  The  Mississippi,  the  Ganges  and  the 
Nile,  those  journeying  atoms  from  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
the  Himmaleh  and  Mountains  of  the  Moon,  have  a  kind  of 
personal  importance  in  the  annals  of  the  world — the 
heavens  are  not  yet  drained  over  their  sources,  but  the 
Mountains  of  the  Moon  still  send  their  annual  tribute  to 
the  Pasha  without  fail,  as  they  did  to  the  Pharaohs,  though 
he  must  collect  the  rest  of  his  revenue  at  the  point  of  the 
sword.  Rivers  must  have  been  the  guides  which  conducted 
the  footsteps  of  the  first  travellers.  They  are  the  constant 
lure,  when  they  flow  by  our  doors,  to  distant  enterprise  and 


2038C55 


VI  PREFACE 

adventure,  and,  by  a  natural  impulse,  the  dwellers  on  their 
banks  will  at  length  accompany  their  currents  to  the  low- 
lands of  the  globe,  or  explore  at  their  invitation  the  interior 
of  continents.  They  are  the  natural  highways  of  all 
nations,  not  only  levelling  the  ground  and  removing  ob- 
stacles from  the  path  of  the  traveller,  quenching  his  thirst, 
and  bearing  him  on  their  bosoms,  but  conducting  him 
through  the  most  interesting  scenery,  the  most  populous 
portions  of  the  globe,  and  where  the  animal  and  vegetable 
kingdoms  attain  their  greatest  perfection." 

In  the  following  pages  little  will  be  found  dealing  with 
the  material  blessings  bestowed  on  mankind  by  the  agency 
of  rivers.  The  average  reader  is  more  interested  in  the 
antiquarian  and  legendary  lore  of  the  sources,  rapids,  banks 
and  islands  of  a  famous  stream.  Length  of  course  and  vol- 
ume of  water  are  matters  of  no  importance  to  lovers  of  the 
picturesque,  the  venerable,  or  the  romantic.  Therefore 
the  literature  of  the  Shannon  is  more  fascinating  than  that 
of  the  Amazon,  and  the  Jordan  attracts  more  pilgrims  than 
the  Volga.  Small  streams  like  the  Wye,  the  Yarrow,  and 
the  Oise  consequently  find  a  place  among  these  celebrated 
rivers. 

E.  S. 

New  Fork,  October,  1908. 


Contents 


THE  RHINE  . 

THE  SEINE    . 

THE  GANGES 

MORNING  ON  THE  GANGES 

THE  COLORADO 

THE  AVON    .          .          . 

DOWN  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE 

THE  TIGRIS  . 

THE  OISE     . 

THE  HUDSON 

THE  TIBER   . 

THE  SHANNON 

THE  DANUBE 

THE  NIGER  . 

THE  AMAZON 

THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG    . 

THE  THAMES 

THE  CONNECTICUT 

MOSEL 

THE  IRRAWADDY    . 

THE  CLYDE  . 

THE  VOLGA  .         . 

THE  CONGO  .          . 

THE  MACKENZIE  RIVER  . 

THE  LOIRE  . 

THE  POTOMAC 
THE  EUPHRATES    . 


Victor  Hugo     ...          I 

A.  Bowman  Blake    .  »         8 

Sir  William  Hunter  .        19 
Pierre  Loti      ...        24 

Henry  Gannett          .  .        28 

John  Wilson  Croker  .        34 

Charles  Dickens        .  .       46 

George  Rawlinson     .  .        52 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson  .       55 

Esther  Singleton        .  .       65 

Sir  other  A.  Smith    .  .       76 

Arthur  Shadwell  Martin  .       87 
/.  Bowes          ...       94 

J.  Hampden  Jackson  .      101 

Joseph  Jones   .         .  .107 

W.  R.  Carles           .  .113 

Charles  Dickens,  Jr.  .      122 

Timothy  Dwight       .  .      131 

F.  Warre  Cornish   .  .138 

Emily  A.  Ric kings    .  .144 

Robert  Walker         .  .155 

Elisee  Reclus   .         .  .162 

J.  Howard  Reed      .  .169 

William  Ogilvie       .  .      177 

/.      Victor  Hugo  185 

//.     Honor e  de  Balzac  '      1 89 

Esther  Singleton        .  .      191 

George  Rawlinson     .  .197 


Viii  CONTENTS 

THE  WYE    .         .         .         .  A.  R.  Quintan          .  .201 

THE  INDIAN  RIVER         .         .  L.  C.  Bryan    .         .  .208 

THE  NILE  ,{'     J-  Howard  Reed  213 

11.     Isaac  Taylor  219 

THE  DON     ....  Elisee  Recltis  .         .  .223 

THE  COLUMBIA  .  J.  Boddam-Whetham  .     228 

THE  Po  George  G.  Chisholm  .     235 

THE  MENAM          .          .          .  Mrs.  Unsworth        .  .241 

THE  MERRIMACK  .          .          .  Henry  D.  Thoreau    .  .     249 

THE  YEN-E-SAY      ...  Henry  Seebohm         .  .     254 

THE  YARROW         .          .          .  John  MacWhirter   .  .     263 

THE  MISSISSIPPI     .          .         .  Alexander  D.  Anderson  .     272 

THE  ZAMBESI         .         .          .  Henry  Drummond     .  .     280 

THE  URUGUAY      .          .         .  Ernest  William  White  .      286 

THE  TWEED  .          .          .  Sir  Thomas  Dick  Louder  .     293 

NIAGARA       ....  John  Tyndall .         .  .     304 

THE  NIAGARA  RIVER       .         .  G.  K.  Gilbert  .  .312 

THE  MEUSE  .         .         .          .  Esther  Singleton        .  .316 

THE  RHONE  .         .         .  Angus  B.  Reach       .  .321 

THE  YUKON  .         .          .  William   Ogilvie      .  .328 

THE  JORDAN  .          .          .  Andrew  Robert  Fausset  .     338 

THE  CONCORD       .          .          .  Henry  D.  Thoreau  .  .     343 

THE  TAGUS  .         .          .          .  Arthur  Shadwell  Martin  .     350 

THE  INDUS   ....  Edward  Balfour       .  .     3  54 


Illustrations 

THE  RHINE Frontispiece 

THE  SEINE 8 

THE  GANGES 20 

THE  COLORADO 28 

THE  AVON    .........       34 

THE  ST.  LAWRENCE 46 

THE  HUDSON 66 

THE  TIBER  .  76 

THE  SHANNON 88 

THE  DANUBE         ........94 

THE  THAMES          .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .122 

THE  CONNECTICUT 132 

THE  IRRAWADDY    .          ,          .          .          .          .          .          .144 

THE  CLYDE 156 

THE  VOLGA 162 

THE  CONGO 170 

THE  LOIRE 1 86 

THE  POTOMAC 192 

THE  WYE 202 

THE  INDIAN         . 208 

THE  NILE 214 

THE  DON      .........     224 

THE  COLUMBIA      .          .         .         .         .         .         .         .228 

THE  Po        .         , 236 


X  ILLUSTRATIONS 

THE  MENAM 242 

THE  MERRIMACK 250 

THE  YARROW 264 

THE  MISSISSIPPI 272 

THE  ZAMBESI 280 

THE  TWEED 294 

THE  NIAGARA 304 

THE  MEUSE 316 

THE  RHONE  ........  322 

THE  JORDAN 338 

THE  CONCORD 344 

THE  TAGUS 350 


THE  RHINE 

VICTOR  HUGO 

I  LOVE  rivers ;  they  do  more  than  bear  merchandise — 
ideas  float  along  their  surface.  Rivers,  like  clarions, 
sing  to  the  ocean  of  the  beauty  of  the  earth,  the  fertility  of 
plains,  and  the  splendour  of  cities. 

Of  all  rivers,  I  prefer  the  Rhine.  It  is  now  a  year, 
when  passing  the  bridge  of  boats  at  Kehl,  since  I  first  saw 
it.  I  remember  that  I  felt  a  certain  respect,  a  sort  of  ad- 
miration, for  this  old,  this  classic  stream.  I  never  think  of 
rivers — those  great  works  of  Nature,  which  are  also  great 
in  history, — without  emotion. 

I  remember  the  Rhone  at  Valserine;  I  saw  it  in  1825, 
in  a  pleasant  excursion  to  Switzerland,  which  is  one  of  the 
sweet,  happy  recollections  of  my  early  life.  I  remember 
with  what  noise,  with  what  ferocious  bellowing,  the  Rhone 
precipitated  itself  into  the  gulf  whilst  the  frail  bridge  upon 
which  I  was  standing  was  shaking  beneath  my  feet.  Ah  ! 
well !  since  that  time,  the  Rhone  brings  to  my  mind  the  idea 
of  a  tiger, — the  Rhine,  that  of  a  lion. 

The  evening  on  which  I  saw  the  Rhine  for  the  first  time, 
I  was  impressed  with  the  same  idea.  For  several  minutes 
I  stood  contemplating  this  proud  and  noble  river — violent, 
but  not  furious ;  wild,  but  still  majestic.  It  was  swollen, 
and  was  magnificent  in  appearance,  and  was  washing  its 
yellow  mane,  or,  as  Boileau  says,  its  "  slimy  beard,"  the 
i 


2  THE  RHINE 

bridge  of  boats.  Its  two  banks  were  lost  in  the  twilight, 
and  though  its  roaring  was  loud,  still  there  was  tranquillity. 

Yes,  the  Rhine  is  a  noble  river — feudal,  republican,  im- 
perial— worthy,  at  the  same  time,  of  France  and  Germany. 
The  whole  history  of  Europe  is  combined  within  its  two 
great  aspects — in  this  flood  of  the  warrior  and  of  the  phi- 
losopher— in  this  proud  stream,  which  causes  France  to 
bound  with  joy,  and  by  whose  profound  murmurings  Ger- 
many is  bewildered  in  dreams. 

The  Rhine  is  unique ;  it  combines  the  qualities  of  every 
river.  Like  the  Rhone,  it  is  rapid  j  broad,  like  the  Loire  ; 
encased,  like  the  Meuse ;  serpentine,  like  the  Seine ;  limpid 
and  green,  like  the  Somme ;  historical,  like  the  Tiber ; 
royal,  like  the  Danube ;  mysterious,  like  the  Nile  ;  spangled 
with  gold,  like  an  American  river  ;  and,  like  a  river  of  Asia, 
abounding  with  phantoms  and  fables. 

Before  the  commencement  of  History,  perhaps  before  the 
existence  of  man,  where  the  Rhine  now  is  there  was  a 
double  chain  of  volcanos,  which  on  their  extinction  left 
heaps  of  lava  and  basalt  lying  parallel,  like  two  long  walls. 
At  the  same  epoch  the  gigantic  crystallizations  formed  the 
primitive  mountains ;  the  enormous  alluvions  of  which  the 
secondary  mountains  consist  were  dried  up ;  the  frightful 
heap,  which  is  now  cold,  and  snow  accumulated  on  them, 
from  which  two  great  streams  issued,  the  one — flowing  to- 
wards the  north,  crossed  the  plains,  encountered  the  sides 
of  the  extinguished  volcanos,  and  emptied  itself  into  the 
ocean ;  the  other,  taking  its  course  westward,  fell  from 
mountain  to  mountain,  flowed  along  the  side  of  the  block 
of  extinguished  volcanos,  which  is  now  Ardache,  and  was 
finally  lost  in  the  Mediterranean.  The  first  of  those  inun- 
dations is  the  Rhine,  and  the  second  the  Rhone. 


THE  RHINE  3 

From  historical  records  we  find  that  the  first  people  who 
took  possession  of  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  were  the  half- 
savage  Celts,  who  were  afterwards  named  Gauls  by  the 
Romans.  When  Rome  was  in  its  glory,  Caesar  crossed  the 
Rhine,  and  shortly  afterwards  the  whole  of  the  river  was 
under  the  jurisdiction  of  his  empire.  When  the  Twenty- 
second  Legion  returned  from  the  siege  of  Jerusalem,  Titus 
sent  it  to  the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  where  it  continued  the 
work  of  Martius  Agrippa.  The  conquerors  required  a  town 
to  join  Melibocus  to  Taunus ;  and  Moguntiacum,  begun 
by  Martius,  was  founded  by  the  Legion,  built  by  Trajan, 
and  embellished  by  Adrian.  Singular  coincidence  !  and 
which  we  must  note  in  passing.  This  Twenty-second 
Legion  brought  with  it  Crescentius,  who  was  first  that  car- 
ried the  Word  of  God  into  the  Rhingau,  and  founded  the 
new  religion.  God  ordained  that  these  ignorant  men,  who 
had  pulled  down  the  last  stone  of  His  temple  upon  the 
Jordan,  should  lay  the  first  of  another  upon  the  banks  of 
the  Rhine.  After  Trajan  and  Adrian  came  Julian,  who 
erected  a  fortress  upon  the  confluence  of  the  Rhine  and  the 
Moselle  j  then  Valentinian,  who  built  a  number  of  castles. 
Thus  in  a  few  centuries,  Roman  colonies,  like  an  immense 
chain,  linked  the  whole  of  the  Rhine,, 

At  length  the  time  arrived  when  Rome  was  to  assume 
another  aspect.  The  incursions  of  the  Northern  hordes 
were  eventually  too  frequent  and  too  powerful  for  Rome ;  so, 
about  the  Sixth  Century,  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  were 
strewed  with  Roman  ruins,  as  at  present  with  feudal  ones. 

Charlemagne  cleared  away  the  rubbish,  built  fortresses, 
and  opposed  the  German  hordes;  but  notwithstanding  his 
desire  to  do  more,  Rome  died,  and  the  physiognomy  of  the 
Rhine  was  changed. 


4  THE  RHINE 

Already,  as  I  before  mentioned,  an  unperceived  germ  was 
sprouting  in  the  Rhingau.  Religion,  that  divine  eagle,  be- 
gan to  spread  its  wings,  and  deposited  among  the  rocks  an 
egg  that  contained  the  germ  of  a  world.  St.  Apollinaire, 
following  the  example  of  Crescentius,  who,  in  the  year 
70  preached  the  Word  of  God  at  Taunus,  visited  Rigo- 
magum.  St.  Martin,  Bishop  of  Tours,  catechized  Con- 
fluentia;  St.  Materne,  before  visiting  Tongres,  resided  at 
Cologne.  At  Treves,  Christians  began  to  suffer  the  death 
of  martyrdom,  and  their  ashes  were  swept  away  by  the 
wind  ;  but  these  were  not  lost,  for  they  became  seeds, 
which  were  germinating  in  the  fields  during  the  passage  of 
the  barbarians,  although  nothing  at  that  time  was  seen  of 
them. 

After  an  historical  period  the  Rhine  became  linked  with 
the  marvellous.  Where  the  noise  of  man  is  hushed,  Na- 
ture lends  a  tongue  to  the  nest  of  birds,  causes  the  caves  to 
whisper,  and  the  thousand  voices  of  solitude  to  murmur; 
where  historical  facts  cease,  imagination  gives  life  to  shad- 
ows and  realities  to  dreams.  Fables  took  root,  grew,  and 
blossomed  in  the  voids  of  History,  like  weeds  and  brambles 
in  the  crevices  of  a  ruined  palace. 

Civilization,  like  the  sun,  has  its  nights  and  its  days,  its 
plenitudes  and  its  eclipses  ;  now  it  disappears,  but  soon  re- 
turns. 

As  soon  as  civilization  again  dawned  upon  Taunus,  there 
were  upon  the  borders  of  the  Rhine  a  whole  host  of  legends 
and  fabulous  stories.  Populations  of  mysterious  beings, 
who  inhabited  the  now  dismantled  castles,  had  held  com- 
munion with  the  belles  filles  and  beaux  chevaliers  of  the  place. 
Spirits  of  the  rocks  ;  black  hunters,  crossing  the  thickets 
upon  stags  with  six  horns ;  the  maid  of  the  black  fen  j  the 


THE  RHINE  5 

six  maidens  of  the  red  marshes  ;  Wodan,  the  god  with  ten 
hands ;  the  twelve  black  men ;  the  raven  that  croaked  its 
song ;  the  devil  who  placed  his  stone  at  Teufelstein  and  his 
ladder  Teufelsleiter,  and  who  had  the  effrontery  to  preach 
publicly  at  Gernsbach,  near  the  Black  Forest,  but,  happily, 
the  Word  of  God  was  heard  at  the  other  side  of  the  stream ; 
the  demon,  Urian,  who  crossed  the  Rhine  at  Dusseldorf, 
having  upon  his  back  the  banks  that  he  had  taken  from  the 
sea-shore,  with  which  he  intended  to  destroy  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  but  being  fatigued  with  his  burden,  and  deceived 
by  an  old  woman,  he  stupidly  dropped  his  load  at  the  im- 
perial city,  where  that  bank  is  at  present  pointed  out,  and 
bears  the  name  of  Loosberg.  At  that  epoch,  which  for  us 
was  plunged  into  a  penumbra,  when  magic  lights  were 
sparkling  here  and  there,  when  the  rocks,  the  woods,  the 
valleys,  were  tenanted  by  apparitions ;  mysterious  encounters, 
infernal  castles,  melodious  songs  sung  by  invisible  song- 
stresses ;  the  frightful  bursts  of  laughter  emanating  from 
mysterious  beings, — these,  with  a  host  of  other  adventures, 
shrouded  in  impossibility,  and  holding  on  by  the  heel  of 
reality,  are  detailed  in  the  legends. 

At  last  these  phantoms  disappear  as  dawn  bursts  in  upon 
them.  Civilization  again  resumed  its  sway,  and  fiction 
gave  place  to  fact.  The  Rhine  assumed  another  aspect : 
abbeys  and  convents  increased ;  churches  were  built  along 
the  banks  of  the  river.  The  ecclesiastic  princes  multiplied 
the  edifices  in  the  Rhingau,  as  the  prefects  of  Rome  had 
done  before  them. 

The  Sixteenth  Century  approached  :  in  the  Fourteenth  the 
Rhine  witnessed  the  invention  of  artillery ;  and  on  its  bank, 
at  Strasbourg,  a  printing-office  was  first  established.  In 
1400  the  famous  cannon,  fourteen  feet  in  length,  was  cast 


6  THE  RHINE 

at  Cologne;  and  in  1472  Vindelin  de  Spire  printed  his 
Bible.  A  new  world  was  making  its  appearance ;  and, 
strange  to  say,  it  was  upon  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  that 
those  two  mysterious  tools  with  which  God  unceasingly 
works  out  the  civilization  of  man, — the  catapult  and  the 
book — war  and  thought, — took  a  new  form. 

The  Rhine,  in  the  destinies  of  Europe,  has  a  sort  of 
providential  signification.  It  is  the  great  moat  which 
divides  the  north  from  the  south.  The  Rhine  for  thirty 
ages,  has  seen  the  forms  and  reflected  the  shadows  of  almost 
all  the  warriors  who  tilled  the  old  continent  with  that  share 
which  they  call  sword.  Caesar  crossed  the  Rhine  in  going 
to  the  south ;  Attila  crossed  it  when  descending  to  the 
north.  It  was  here  that  Clovis  gained  the  battle  of 
Tolbiac ;  and  that  Charlemagne  and  Napoleon  figured. 
Frederick  Barbarossa,  Rudolph  of  Hapsbourg,  and  Fred- 
erick the  First,  were  great,  victorious,  and  formidable  when 
here.  For  the  thinker,  who  is  conversant  with  History, 
two  great  eagles  are  perpetually  hovering  over  the  Rhine — 
that  of  the  Roman  legions,  and  that  of  the  French 
regiments.  The  Rhine — that  noble  flood,  which  the  Ro- 
mans named  Rhenus  superbus,  bore  at  one  time  upon  its 
surface  bridges  of  boats,  over  which  the  armies  of  Italy, 
Spain,  and  France  poured  into  Germany,  and  which,  at  a 
later  date,  were  made  use  of  by  the  hordes  of  barbarians 
when  rushing  into  the  ancient  Roman  world :  at  another, 
on  its  surface  it  floated  peaceably  the  fir-trees  of  Murg  and 
St.  Gall,  the  porphyry  and  the  marble  of  Bale,  the  salt  of 
Karlshall,  the  leather  of  Stromberg,  the  quicksilver  of  Lans- 
berg,  the  wine  of  Johannisberg,  the  slates  of  Coab,  the 
cloth  and  earthenware  of  Wallendar,  the  silks  and  linens  of 
Cologne.  It  majestically  performs  its  double  function  of 


THE  RHINE  7 

flood  of  war  and  flood  of  peace,  having,  without  interrup- 
tion, upon  the  ranges  of  hills  which  embank  the  most 
notable  portion  of  its  course,  oak-trees  on  the  one  side  and 
vine-trees  on  the  other — signifying  strength  and  joy. 

For  Homer  the  Rhine  existed  not;  for  Virgil  it  was  only 
a  frozen  stream — Frigiora  Rbeni ;  for  Shakespeare  it  was 
the  "  beautiful  Rhine  "  ;  for  us  it  is,  and  will  be  to  the  day 
when  it  shall  become  the  grand  question  of  Europe,  a  pic- 
turesque river,  the  resort  of  the  unemployed  of  Ems,  of 
Baden,  and  of  Spa. 


THE  SEINE 

A.  BOWMAN   BLAKE 

FEW  persons  outside  of  France  have  any  acquaintance 
with,  or  knowledge  of,  the  rare  beauties  of  Seine  scenery. 
The  river  has  thus  far  escaped  the  vulgarity  of  becoming  a 
common  tourist's  high-road.  The  general  impression  is 
current  that  the  Seine,  being  destitute  of  the  legendary  ro- 
mance of  the  vine-clad  Rhine,  the  vivid  and  somewhat 
spectacular  scenic  effects  of  the  Italian  lakes,  or  even  the 
lawn-like  finish  of  the  Thames,  offers  no  attractions  to 
either  amateur  or  tourist.  This  opinion  only  proves  the 
falsity  of  opinion  based  upon  superficial  knowledge.  From 
the  artistic  point  of  view,  perhaps,  no  other  one  river  in 
Europe  possesses  a  character  of  scenery  so  preeminently 
beautiful,  or  so  replete  with  the  charm  of  contrast,  or  rich 
in  variety ;  for  the  picturesque  portions  of  the  noble  river 
are  by  no  means  confined  to  the  grandeur  and  wildness  of 
the  Fontainebleau  forests,  or  of  the  animated  quays  and 
crumbling  Mediaeval  houses  of  the  ancient  city  of  Rouen. 
To  one  in  search  of  scenes  which  shall  unite  the  charms  of 
beautiful  river  scenery  with  the  added  note  of  pastoral  and 
village  rusticity,  almost  every  turning  of  the  river  will  re- 
veal a  mine  of  wealth.  It  is  a  characteristic  of  the  scenery 
of  the  Seine  that  it  is  eminently  sketchable  at  almost  every 
point.  For  it  is  more  than  a  purely  picturesque,  it  is  an 
essentially  poetic  river.  A  conclusive  proof  of  its  su- 
periority in  point  of  artistic  resources  and  suggestivement 


THE  SEINE  9 

is,  perhaps,  that  no  other  European  river  scenery  has  had  so 
overwhelming  an  influence  upon  modern  Art.  During  the 
past  forty  years,  in  which  the  Seine  and  its  tributaries  have 
been  the  principal  camping-ground  of  the  best  French  land- 
scape-painters, the  peculiarities  of  its  scenery,  and  the  fea- 
tures of  its  rustic  life,  have  formed  the  taste,  and  developed  a 
wholly  original  mode  of  treatment  of  genre  and  landscape  in 
the  modern  French  school.  The  two  principal  character- 
istics of  the  scenery  of  the  Seine  are  its  naturalness,  and  its 
possessing  in  the  highest  degreethat  individuality  which  marks 
its  landscapes  as  distinctively  French.  The  Seine  could 
never  be  mistaken  at  any  point  for  other  than  a  French 
river.  The  Parisian  masters,  in  transferring  to  their  can- 
vasses the  peculiarities  of  the  river  and  shore  aspects,  have 
produced  a  school  of  landscape  as  essentially  national  in 
character  as  that  which  marks  the  Dutch  and  Flemish  mas- 
terpieces of  two  hundred  years  ago.  The  low  wide  mea- 
dows, the  stately  poplars,  the  reedy  shores,  and  the  delicate 
atmosphere  which  veils  the  jumble  of  roofs,  and  the  quaint 
towers  and  turrets  that  are  lanced  from  the  Seine  shores, 
have  already  become  as  familiar  features  of  modern  French 
landscape,  as  the  cone-shaped  hills  of  Flanders  and  the  flat 
windmill-dotted  fields  of  Holland,  which  makes  the  char- 
acter of  the  landscape  in  Dutch  and  Flemish  canvasses. 

I  have  spoken  of  the  naturalness  of  the  Seine  landscape. 
It  is  this  which  makes  its  lasting  charm.  Along  these 
banks  Nature  neither  rises  to  the  sublime  nor  does  she  ap- 
pear in  too  wild  or  dishevelled  a  state.  There  is  a  happy 
blending  of  the  cultivated  and  the  uncultivated,  of  course 
tamed  and  yet  enjoying  the  wilder  abandon  of  freedom. 
Nowhere  are  the  scenes  too  grand  or  too  wide  for  the  pen- 
cil ;  the  hills  suggest,  but  do  not  attain,  the  majestic ;  the 


10  THE  SEINE 

wide,  flat  fields  and  the  long  stretches  of  meadows  are 
broken  into  possible  distances  by  a  gently  sloping  ground, 
or  an  avenue  of  tall  poplars.  The  villages  and  farm-houses 
dotted  along  its  banks  wear  a  thoroughly  rustic  air;  the 
villas  and  chateaux  crowning  its  low  hills  become  naturally 
a  part  of  the  landscape  by  their  happy  adaptation,  architec- 
turally, to  the  character  of  their  surroundings ;  while  the  not 
infrequent  ruins  of  monastery  or  ancient  castle  group  charm- 
ingly with  the  fluffy  foliage  and  dense  shrubbery. 

Perhaps  the  impressionist's  most  ideal  landscape  would  be 
found  among  the  villages  of  the  upper  Seine,  that  part  of 
the  Seine  which  flows  between  Fontainebleau  and  Rouen, 
as  beyond  Rouen  the  river  takes  on  a  stronger  and  bolder 
character  both  in  its  breadth  and  in  the  quality  of  its 
scenery. 

First  in  point  of  beauty  among  the  villages  contiguous  to 
Fontainebleau,  is  Gretz,  a  little  village  not  directly  upon 
the  Seine,  but  upon  its  tributary,  the  Loing.  Gretz  can  be 
reached  in  an  hour's  drive  from  the  town  or  palace  of  Fon- 
tainebleau. This  charming  village  must  have  grown  here, 
close  to  the  low  sweet  level  of  the  winding  river's  banks, 
with  a  view  to  its  being  sketched.  Not  a  feature  necessary 
to  the  making  of  a  picture  is  wanting.  The  village  street 
lies  back  some  distance  from  the  shore,  the  backs  of  the 
houses  fronting  on  the  river,  the  village  and  river  life  made 
one  by  the  straggling  rose,  fruit,  and  vegetable  gardens  run- 
ning down  between  their  high  stone-wall  enclosures  to  the 
very  edges  of  the  swiftly  flowing  streams.  As  one  views 
the  village  from  the  mid-stream,  one  has  the  outlined  irreg- 
ularity of  the  village  houses  limned  against  the  sky.  To 
the  right,  between  the  tall  grenadier-like  poplars,  or  the 
higher  branches  of  the  willow,  rises  a  beautiful  group  of  old 


THE  SEINE  II 

buildings ;  the  blue  spaces  of  the  sky  are  seen  through  the 
arches  and  ruins  of  the  old  chateau  of  La  Reine  Blanche, 
that  queen  having  made,  centuries  ago,  Gretz  her  dwelling 
place.  The  massive,  simple  lines  of  the  castle's  Norman 
tower  contrast  finely  with  the  belfry  of  the  still  more  ancient 
church  close  beside  it,  the  dark  facades  of  these  old  build- 
ings being  relieved  by  the  gay  touches  of  colour  upon  the 
adjacent  houses.  A  queer  old  bridge  appears  to  leap  di- 
rectly from  the  very  courtyard  of  the  chateau  to  the  oppo- 
site shore,  and  on  the  bridge  is  constantly  moving  some 
picture  of  rustic  life,  peasants  with  loads  of  grapes  or 
fagots,  a  herd  of  oxen  laboriously  dragging  the  teeming  hay- 
cart,  a  group  of  chattering  villagers,  or  the  shepherd  leading 
his  flock  to  richer  pastures.  The  river  banks  themselves 
are  not  wanting  in  the  beauty  of  human  activity.  In  the 
gardens,  as  our  boat  drifted  along  the  banks,  were  half-a- 
dozen  bent  old  women  weeding,  sowing,  and  plucking. 
Farther  down,  beyond  the  bridge,  is  the  washerwomen's 
stand,  the  bare  arms,  short  skirts,  and  gay  kerchiefs  of  these 
sturdy  peasant  women,  with  the  bits  of  colour  their  home- 
spun linens  yield,  making  delightful  contrasts  with  the  del- 
icate arabesques  which  light  foliage  made  against  the  sky. 

The  upper  valley  of  the  Seine,  that  portion  of  the  river 
lying  between  Paris  and  Rouen,  seems  at  a  first  glance  to  be 
a  country  as  sterile  in  artistic  resources  as  it  is  interesting 
to  the  average  tourist.  But  the  French  artist,  so  far  from 
finding  the  flat,  wide  stretches  of  field  and  meadow,  the 
scanty  foliage,  and  the  scattered  group  of  farm-houses  which 
border  the  river  banks,  either  too  prosaic  or  too  trite  for  his 
pencil,  has  discovered  from  a  close  study  of  this  apparently 
common-place  valley  scenery  a  new  feature  of  landscape 
beauty.  This  feature  has  been  the  present  original  treat- 


12  THE  SEINE 

ment  of  the  flat  surfaces  of  ground  and  of  large  sunlit 
spaces.  The  character  of  all  this  valley  scenery  may  be 
summed  up  in  a  few  words  ;  tilled  fields  running  down  to 
the  water's  edge;  wild  uncultivated  fields  and  rank  dank 
meadows,  their  flatness  broken  here  and  there  by  a  cluster- 
ing group  of  low  shrubbery,  by  rows  of  the  slim,  straight 
French  poplars,  or  an  avenue  of  stunted,  bulbous-trunk 
willows,  with  their  straight,  reed-like  branches.  The  entire 
landscape  has  but  two  lines,  the  horizontality  of  the 
meadows  and  the  perpendicular  uprising  of  the  trees,  except 
that  far  off  in  the  distance  run  the  waving  outlines  of  the 
hills  of  Normandy.  Such  is  the  aspect  of  the  country  in 
which  some  of  the  first  among  contemporaneous  French 
artists  have  found  new  sources  of  inspiration.  Those  wide, 
sunlit  meadows,  breathing  the  rich  luxuriance  of  nature  in 
undisturbed  serenity  ;  the  golden  spaces  of  the  air  shimmer- 
ing like  some  netted  tissue  between  tree  and  tree ;  the 
shadows  cast  by  a  single  tree  across  the  length  of  the  field ; 
an  intimate  knowledge  and  study  of  this  landscape  have 
taught  the  French  brush  the  secret  of  its  power  in  painting 
a  flat  picture,  and  in  wresting  from  sunlight  the  glory  of  its 
gold.  The  peculiar  qualities  of  the  atmosphere  at  certain 
seasons  of  the  year  make  the  Seine  valley  entrancing, 
especially  to  Art  Students.  In  the  spring,  nothing  can  ex- 
ceed the  delicacy,  purity  and  fineness  of  the  colouring  of 
the  foliage,  and  the  tones  of  light  are  marvellous  in  their 
dainty  refinement  and  suggestiveness.  Nature  seems  to  be 
making  a  sketch  in  outline  of  a  picture,  which  summer  is 
to  fill  in,  so  pure  are  the  outlines  of  foliage  and  landscape  in 
that  wonderful  medium  of  delicately  coloured  ether.  In 
summer,  sunlight  fairly  drenches  the  fields.  Autumn 
colours,  also,  here  seem  richer,  firmer,  more  glowing  than  in 


THE  SEINE  13 

other  parts  of  France,  and  the   October  twilights  in  their 
brilliance  and  duration  approach  an  American  tint. 

The  first  breaks  in  the  monotony  of  the  valley  scenery 
are  the  approaches  to,  and  the  immediate  suburbs  about, 
Rouen.  The  river  banks  just  below  are  particularly 
picturesque.  The  river  between  Rouen  and  La  Bouille  as- 
sumes a  character  different  from  that  which  marks  it  above 
a  city.  It  was  my  special  good  fortune  to  traverse  this 
portion  sometime  before  sunrise.  We  left  the  city  behind 
us  masked  in  grey  mist,  only  the  ironfleche  of  the  cathedral 
piercing  the  cottony  wrappings.  On  the  motionless  Seine 
not  a  ripple  was  astir,  and  the  morning  fog  held  leaves  and 
trees  in  a  close,  breathless  embrace.  But  at  Croisset,  with 
the  shooting  of  the  sun  above  the  horizon  came  the  melting 
hues  and  freshening  breath  of  morning.  As  the  clouds, 
slowly  rolled  apart,  gave  us  glimpses  of  the  magnificent 
panorama  of  Rouen  set  in  its  circlet  of  hills,  the  effect  was 
that  of  the  gradual  lifting  of  a  drop-curtain  upon  some  fine 
scenic  landscape.  The  river  itself  was  a  jewel  of  colour, 
reflecting  the  faintly  tinted  shipping  along  the  wharves,  the 
rich  emerald  of  the  trees,  and  the  shadowy  grasses  along 
the  shore.  The  steamer  on  its  way  steers  in  and  out  among 
a  hundred  little  islands  which  "give  a  magical  effect  of  en- 
chantment, so  fairy-like  and  exquisite  are  their  shapes  and 
forms.  With  Croisset,  Hautot,  Loquence,  and  Sahurs,  the 
majesty  of  the  Rouen  quays,  wharves,  spires,  and  cathedral 
towers  gives  place  to  the  richer,  softer  beauty  of  rural  vil- 
lage loveliness.  But  the  most  beautiful  picture  greeted  our 
eyes  as  we  approached  La  Bouille,  which  is  picturesquely 
set  against  the  greenery  of  a  hilly  back-ground,  its  bright, 
light-coloured  houses  so  close  to  the  water's  edge  that  the 
river  was  like  a  broken  rainbow  of  colour,  reflecting  their 


14  THE  SEINE 

tints  in  its  ripples.  Across  the  river  was  a  magnificent  ex- 
panse of  meadow  and  tilled  field,  with  a  poplar  now  and 
then  to  serve  as  a  sentinel  guarding  the  bursting  grain. 
The  banks  of  the  river  are  delightfully  diversified  by 
clusters  of  old  thatched  farm-houses,  spreading  fishing-nets, 
and  old  boats  moored  in  tiny  creeks.  As  we  passed  the  last 
of  the  village  houses,  there  were  some  wonderful  effects  of 
light  and  colour ;  all  the  confused  indecision  of  light  scurry- 
ing clouds  piled  above  the  meadows ;  the  uncertain  vague- 
ness of  a  mist  rolling  still,  like  the  skirts  of  a  fleecy  robe, 
over  the  distant  river  bends  ;  and  immediately  above  us  the 
warmth,  brilliance,  and  goldenness  of  sunrise  in  its  early 
splendour.  Couched  amidst  the  mysterious  shade  of  some 
dense  foliage  was  the  bending  form  of  an  old  woman,  fill- 
ing her  pitcher  at  the  river-side,  scarlet  kerchiefed  and  dun 
skirted.  Off  in  the  grey  distance  was  the  figure  of  a 
peasant  woman  carrying  her  child  upon  her  back,  her  tall, 
straight  form  magnified  into  strange  attitude  by  the  misty 
atmosphere.  A  brush  capable  of  strong  handling,  and  an 
eye  trained  to  seize  the  more  fleeting  beauties  of  nature, 
would  have  found  in  this  La  Bouille  picture  a  poem  of 
colour  and  tenderness. 

I  have  already  mentioned  the  naturalness  of  the  rustic 
life  of  the  Seine  fields  and  farm-houses.  The  sturdy 
simplicity  of  the  Normandy  peasant  is  his  well-known 
characteristic.  The  farmers  at  the  plough,  the  fishermen 
mending  their  nets,  the  shepherd  tending  his  flocks,  are  not 
the  least  poetic  of  the  elements  which  make  the  charm  of 
this  river  scenery.  There  reigns  here  an  Arcadian  calm, 
a  certain  patriarchal  simplicity.  The  complicated  ingenui- 
ties and  labour-saving  machines  of  modern  invention  have 
not  as  yet  become  the  fashion  among  the  Normandy 


THE  SEINE  15 

peasant-farmers,  and  thus  every  agricultural  implement, 
seen  out-of-doors,  seems  available  for  an  artist's  purpose. 
The  ploughs  are  marvels  of  ancient  construction  j  oxen  and 
horses  are  harnessed  in  ways  known  only  to  those  who 
have  learned  the  science  as  a  secret  handed  down  from  sire 
to  son  ;  and  carts,  threshing-machines,  rakes,  and  hoes  have 
an  air  of  venerability  that  matches  well  with  the  old  gabled 
houses  and  worn  rustic  dress  of  the  farmers.  It  is  this 
aspect  of  age  which  imparts  such  beautiful  low  tones  of 
colour  to  the  pictures  of  human  life  along  these  shores. 
There  are  no  flaring,  flashing  hues,  no  brilliant  dashes  of 
colour ;  instead,  the  tones  of  landscape,  sky,  atmosphere, 
and  the  human  life  blend  in  a  beautiful  harmony  of  soft 
low  tints.  In  matters  of  toilet,  the  Normandy  peasant's 
taste  is  perfect.  The  farmers  wear  blouses  of  dark,  sober 
blues ;  the  women  short  skirts  of  dull  green,  brown  or 
home-spun  grey  ;  their  aprons  are  snufF-colour  or  lilac,  and 
their  close-fitting  embroidered  cap,  or  the  coloured  kerchief 
tied  over  their  heads,  brings  into  admirable  relief  their  bril- 
liant complexions,  strong  prominent  features,  and  flaxen 
tresses. 

In  that  morning's  journey  from  Rouen  to  Havre  we  en- 
joyed a  delightful  variety  of  out-door  life.  In  the  early 
sunrise  hours  there  were  visible  the  first  symptoms  of  the 
farm-house  in  early  rising.  The  farmer  was  seen  striding 
over  the  dew-wet  meadows  to  open  barns  or  to  drive  forth 
the  cattle ;  women  were  busy  milking,  and  the  children 
trudging  to  the  river  with  pails  and  pitchers  to  be  filled. 
Later,  the  fields  were  alive  with  the  ploughmen's  cries,  and 
men  and  women  were  starting  out,  rakes  and  scythes  in 
hand,  for  their  day's  work ;  children  stood  up  to  their  chins 
in  the  yellow  grain,  in  the  midst  of  the  scarlet  coquelicots  and 


1 6  THE  SEINE 

the  star-eyed  daisies.  Towards  noon  there  was  a  pretty 
picture  of  a  farmer  wheeling  along  the  river  bank  a  huge 
load  of  green  grass,  atop  of  which  were  seated  two  round, 
moon-faced  children  whose  laps  and  hands  were  full  of  the 
brilliant  field-flowers.  Behind  them  walked  the  mother 
with  a  rake  slung  over  her  shoulder,  her  short  skirts  and 
scant  draperies  permitting  a  noble  freedom  of  step  and 
movement,  her  head  poised  as  only  the  head  of  a  woman 
used  to  the  balancing  of  heavy  burdens  is  ever  held.  Hers 
was  altogether  a  striking  figure,  and  the  brush  of  Vollen  or 
of  Breton  would  have  seized  upon  her  to  embody  the  type 
of  one  of  his  rustic  beauties,  whose  mingled  fierceness  and 
grace  make  their  peasants  the  rude  goddesses  of  the  plough. 

One  of  the  chief  charms  of  the  Seine  scenery  is  the 
variety  and  contrast  its  shores  present.  One  passes  directly 
from  the  calm  and  the  rural  naturalness  of  sloping  meadows 
fringed  with  osiers,  willows,  and  poplars,  to  the  walled 
quays  of  Caudebec,  with  its  spires,  broad  avenues,  and 
garden-enclosed  houses.  Caudebec  is  characterized  by  an 
imposing  chateau  crowning  its  hillside,  by  beautiful  gardens, 
terraces,  its  long  row  of  "  striped  "  houses  stretching  along 
its  quays,  and  the  beauty  of  its  cathedral  spire  rising  above 
the  tree-trops. 

Perhaps  Villequier  may  be  said  to  be  the  culminating 
point  of  beauty  upon  the  Seine.  Here  the  river  seems  only 
like  a  large  lake,  a  fact  which  invests  the  landscape  with  its 
noble  uprising  hills  and  the  beautiful,  thickly  wooded  spurs 
of  the  hillocks,  with  something  of  the  rounded  finished  as- 
pect which  belongs  to  lake  scenery.  The  lovely  village  of 
Villequier  itself  peeps  in  and  out  of  its  encompassing  trees 
as  if  with  a  conscious  air  of  coquetry.  The  bright,  gaily 
coloured  houses  grouped  upon  the  water's  edge  give  a  touch 


THE  SEINE  17 

of  Italian  brilliancy  to  the  scene,  while  its  fine  chateau 
of  Villequier^and  the  old  Gothic  spire  of  the  village  church 
add  the  noble  lines  to  the  ensemble. 

This  bay  of  Villequier  is  the  beginning  of  the  bolder 
beauty  of  the  Seine  scenery.  Its  quieter  aspects  lie  above 
Villequier.  The  artist  in  search  of  striking  scenes  and  a 
rich  variety  of  contrasts  will  find  this  part  of  the  river 
afford  fine  material.  On  the  way  to  Quilleboeuf  and  Tan- 
carville  the  shores  of  the  river  assume  a  hundred  different 
aspects.  There  is  the  forest  of  Bretonne,  the  lovely  valley 
of  the  Bolbec,  the  beautiful  chateau  of  Etalan,  and  the 
ruins  of  the  Twelfth  Century  church.  Quilleboeuf  itself 
stands  boldly  out  into  the  river,  perched  upon  a  spur  of 
rising  ground,  and  is,  perhaps,  the  most  pretentious  town 
upon  the  Seine.  After  Quilleboeuf  and  Tancarville  the 
loftier  hills  and  thickly  wooded  shores  of  the  river  give 
place  to  wide,  flat  marshes  and  open  valleys.  The  marshes 
just  beyond  Quilleboeuf  are,  to  our  taste,  its  most  distin- 
guishing beauty ;  they  run  directly  out  to  the  most  distant 
points  of  the  horizon,  and  the  rich  yellow-green  grass,  with 
its  brilliant  bouquets  of  wild  flowers  scattered  profusely  over 
the  flat  treeless  surface,  makes  a  kaleidoscope  of  colour  un- 
der the  broad  unbroken  splendour  of  the  noon-day  sun. 
Cattle  in  large  herds,  horses,  and  sheep,  pasture  upon  the 
rich  meadows,  so  that  the  animal-painter  finds  here  a  superb 
landscape  for  the  setting  of  his  ruminating  cows,  fleecy 
sheep,  or  wild  unbridled  colts. 

Just  beyond  these  meadows  the  Seine  loses  all  the  char- 
acter of  a  river.  It  has  assumed,  before  its  final  plunge 
into  the  ocean,  the  turbulent,  tumultuous  aspect  of  a  small 
sea,  and  like  a  lover  wearing  his  lady's  colours,  the  river 
turns  to  the  deeper  greys  and  colder  blues  of  the  sea's  dark 


1 8  THE  SEINE 

tint.  The  boat  stops  long  enough  at  the  wonderful  old 
seaport  town  of  Honfleur  for  one  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  its 
quaint  turreted  houses,  its  crooked  narrow  streets,  its 
wharves  with  their  picturesque  assemblage  of  lateen-shaped 
sails.  Then  Havre  is  reached,  and  with  those  swarming 
quays  and  bright  pebbly  shores  the  Seine  is  lost  in  the  great 
Atlantic. 


THE  GANGES 

SIR  WILLIAM  W.  HUNTER 

OF  all  great  rivers  on  the  surface  of  the  globe,  none 
can  compare  in  sanctity  with  the  Ganges,  or 
Mother  Ganga,  as  she  is  affectionately  called  by  devout 
Hindus.  From  her  source  in  the  Himalayas,  to  her  mouth 
in  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  her  banks  are  holy  ground.  Each 
point  of  junction  of  a  tributary  with  the  main  stream  has  its 
own  special  claims  to  sanctity.  But  the  tongue  of  land  at 
Allahabad,  where  the  Ganges  unites  with  her  great  sister 
river  the  Jumna,  is  the  true  Prayag,  the  place  of  pilgrimage 
whither  hundreds  of  thousands  of  devout  Hindus  repair  to 
wash  away  their  sins  in  her  sanctifying  waters.  Many  of 
the  other  holy  rivers  of  India  borrow  their  sanctity  from  a 
supposed  underground  connection  with  the  Ganges.  This 
fond  fable  recalls  the  primitive  time  when  the  Aryan  race 
was  moving  southward  with  fresh  and  tender  recollections 
of  the  Gangetic  plains.  It  is  told  not  only  of  first-class 
rivers  of  Central  and  Southern  India,  like  the  Narbada,  but 
also  of  many  minor  streams  of  local  sanctity. 

An  ancient  legend  relates  how  Ganga,  the  fair  daughter 
of  King  Himalaya  (Himavat)  and  of  his  queen,  the  air- 
nymph  Menaka,  was  persuaded,  after  long  supplication,  to 
shed  her  purifying  influence  upon  the  sinful  earth.  The 
icicle-studded  cavern  from  which  she  issues  is  the  tangled 
hair  of  the  god  Siva.  Loving  legends  hallow  each  part  of 
her  course ;  and  from  the  names  of  her  tributaries  and  of 


2O  THE  GANGES 

the  towns  along  her  banks,  a  whole  mythology  might  be 
built  up.  The  southern  offshoots  of  the  Aryan  race  not  only 
sanctified  their  southern  rivers  by  a  fabled  connection  with 
the  holy  stream  of  the  north.  They  also  hoped  that  in  the 
distant  future,  their  rivers  would  attain  an  equal  sanctity 
by  the  diversion  of  the  Ganges  waters  through  underground 
channels.  Thus,  the  Brahmans  along  the  Narbada  maintain 
that  in  this  iron  age  of  the  world  (indeed,  in  the  year  1894 
A.  D.)  the  sacred  character  of  the  Ganges  will  depart  from 
her  now  polluted  stream,  and  take  refuge  by  an  underground 
passage  in  their  own  Narbada  river. 

The  estuary  of  the  Ganges  is  not  less  sacred  than  her 
source.  Sagar  Island  at  her  mouth  is  annually  visited  by  a 
vast  concourse  of  pilgrims,  in  commemoration  of  her  act  of 
saving  grace  j  when,  in  order  to  cleanse  the  60,000  damned 
ones  of  the  house  of  Sagar,  she  divided  herself  into  a  hun- 
dred channels,  thus  making  sure  of  reaching  their  remains 
with  her  purifying  waters,  and  so  forming  the  delta  of 
Bengal.  The  six  years'  pilgrimage  from  her  source  to  her 
mouth  and  back  again,  known  as  pradak-shina,  is  still  per- 
formed by  many ;  and  a  few  devotees  may  yet  be  seen 
wearily  accomplishing  the  meritorious  penance  of  "  measur- 
ing their  length  "  along  certain  parts  of  the  route.  To 
bathe  in  the  Ganges  at  the  stated  festivals  washes  away 
guilt,  and  those  who  have  thus  purified  themselves  carry 
back  bottles  of  her  water  to  their  kindred  in  far-off  prov- 
inces. To  die  and  be  cremated  on  the  river  bank,  and  to 
have  their  ashes  borne  seaward  by  her  stream,  is  the  last 
wish  of  millions  of  Hindus.  Even  to  ejaculate  "  Ganga, 
Ganga,  at  the  distance  of  one  hundred  leagues  from  the 
river,"  said  her  more  enthusiastic  devotees,  might  atone  for 
the  sins^'committed  during  three  previous  lives. 


THE  GANGES  it 

The  Ganges  has  earned  the  reverence  of  the  people  by 
centuries  of  unfailing  work  done  for  them.  She  and  her 
tributaries  are  the  unwearied  water-carriers  for  the  densely- 
peopled  provinces  of  Northern  India,  and  the  peasantry 
reverence  the  bountiful  stream  which  fertilizes  their  fields 
and  distributes  their  produce.  None  of  the  other  rivers  of 
India  comes  near  to  the  Ganges  in  works  of  beneficence. 
The  Brahmaputra  and  the  Indus  have  longer  streams,  as 
measured  by  the  geographer,  but  their  upper  courses  lie  be- 
yond the  great  mountain  wall  in  the  unknown  recesses  of 
the  Himalayas. 

Not  one  of  the  rivers  of  Southern  India  is  navigable  in 
the  proper  sense.  But  in  the  north,  the  Ganges  begins  to 
distribute  fertility  by  irrigation  as  soon  as  she  reaches  the 
plains,  within  200  miles  of  her  source,  and  at  the  same 
time  her  channel  becomes  in  some  sort  navigable.  Thence- 
forward she  rolls  majestically  down  to  the  sea  in  a  beautiful 
stream,  which  never  'becomes  a  merely  destructive  torrent 
in  the  rains,  and  never  dwindles  away  in  the  hottest  sum- 
mer. Tapped  by  canals,  she  distributes  millions  of  cubic 
feet  of  water  every  hour  in  irrigation  ;  but  her  diminished 
volume  is  promptly  recruited  by  great  tributaries,  and  the 
wide  area  of  her  catchment  basin  renders  her  stream  inex- 
haustible in  the  service  of  man.  Embankments  are  in  but 
few  places  required  to  restrain  her  inundations,  for  the 
alluvial  silt  which  she  spills  over  her  banks  affords  in  most 
parts  a  top-dressing  of  inexhaustible  fertility.  If  one 
crop  be  drowned  by  flood,  the  peasant  comforts  himself 
with  the  thought  that  the  next  crop  from  his  silt-manured 
fields  will  abundantly  requite  him. 

The  Ganges  has  also  played  a  preeminent  part  in  the 
commercial  development  of  Northern  India.  Until  the 


22  THE  GANGES 

opening  of  the  railway  system,  from  1855  to  1870,  her 
magnificent  stream  formed  almost  the  sole  channel  of  traffic 
between  upper  India  and  the  seaboard.  The  products  not 
only  of  the  river  plains,  but  even  the  cotton  of  the  Central 
Provinces,  were  formerly  brought  by  this  route  to  Calcutta. 
Notwithstanding  the  revolution  caused  by  the  railways,  the 
heavier  and  more  bulky  staples  are  still  conveyed  by  the 
river,  and  the  Ganges  may  yet  rank  as  one  of  the  greatest 
waterways  in  the  world. 

The  value  of  the  upward  and  downward  trade  of  the  in- 
terior with  Calcutta,  by  the  Gangetic  channels,  may  be 
taken  at  about  400,000,000  of  rupees  per  annum,  of  which 
over  153,000,000  go  by  country -boats,  and  nearly  240,- 
000,000  by  steamers  (1891).  This  is  exclusive  of  the  sea- 
borne commerce.  But  the  adjustments  which  have  to  be 
made  are  so  numerous  that  the  calculation  is  an  intricate 
one.  As  far  back  as  1876,  the  number  of  cargo  boats 
registered  at  Bamanghata,  on  one  of  the  canals  east  of  Cal- 
cutta, was  178,627  j  at  Hugli,  a  river-side  station  on  a  sin- 
gle one  of  the  many  Gangetic  mouths,  124,357;  and  at 
Patna,  550  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  the  number 
of  cargo  boats  entered  in  the  register  was  61,571.  The 
port  of  Calcutta  is  itself  one  of  the  world's  greatest  emporia 
for  sea  and  river-borne  commerce.  Its  total  exports  and 
imports  landward  and  seaward  amounted  in  1881  to  about 
1,400,000,000  of  rupees  (Rx.  140,000,000)  and  to  1,523,- 
000,000  of  rupees  (Rx.  152,363,583)  in  1891. 

Articles  of  European  commerce,  such  as  wheat,  indigo, 
cotton,  opium,  and  saltpetre,  prefer  the  railway  ;  so  also  do 
the  imports  of  Manchester  piece  goods.  But  if  we  take 
into  account  the  vast  development  in  the  export  trade  of 
oil-seeds,  rice,  etc.,  still  carried  by  the  river,  and  the  grow- 


THE  GANGES  23 

ing  interchange  of  food-grains  between  interior  districts  of 
the  country,  it  seems  probable  that  the  actual  amount  of 
traffic  on  the  Ganges  has  increased  rather  than  diminished 
since  the  opening  of  the  railways.  At  well-chosen  points 
along  her  course,  the  iron  lines  touch  the  banks,  and  these 
river-side  stations  form  centres  for  collecting  and  distribut- 
ing the  produce  of  the  surrounding  country.  The  Ganges, 
therefore,  is  not  merely  a  rival,  but  a  feeder  of  the  railway. 
Her  ancient  cities,  such  as  Allahabad,  Benares,  and  Patna, 
have  thus  been  able  to  preserve  their  former  importance  ; 
while  fishing  villages  like  Sahibganj  and  Goalanda  have 
been  raised  into  thriving  river  marts. 

For,  unlike  the  Indus  and  the  Brahmaputra,  the  Ganges 
is  a  river  of  great  historic  cities.  Calcutta,  Patna,  and 
Benares  are  built  on  her  banks ;  Agra  and  Delhi  on  those 
of  her  tributary,  the  Jumna ;  and  Allahabad  on  the  tongue 
of  land  where  the  two  sister  streams  unite.  Many  millions 
of  human  beings  live  by  commerce  along  her  margin. 
Calcutta,  with  its  suburbs  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  con- 
tains a  population  of  nearly  a  million.  It  has  a  municipal 
revenue  of  four  and  one-fourth  millions  of  rupees;  a  sea- 
borne and  coasting  commerce  in  1891  of  770,000,000  of 
rupees,  with  a  landward  trade  of  over  750,000,000.  These 
figures  vary  from  year  to  year,  but  show  a  steady  increase. 
Calcutta  lies  on  the  Hugli,  the  most  westerly  of  the 
mouths  by  which  the  Ganges  enters  the  sea.  To  the 
eastward  stretches  the  delta,  till  it  is  hemmed  in  on  the 
other  side  by  the  Meghna,  the  most  easterly  of  the  mouths 
of  the  Ganges.  More  accurately  speaking,  the  Meghna  is 
the  vast  estuary  by  which  the  combined  waters  of  the  Brah- 
maputra and  Gangetic  river-systems  find  their  way  into 
the  Bay  of  Bengal. 


MORNING  ON  THE  GANGES 

PIERRE  LOT! 

NEARLY  all  the  streets  lead  to  the  Ganges,  where 
they  grow  wider  and  become  less  gloomy.  Here, 
suddenly,  the  magnificent  palaces  and  all  the  brightness 
of  the  day  dawn  upon  us. 

These  massive  tiers  of  steps,  which  stretch  along  the 
banks  and  reach  to  the  water's  edge  even  in  these  times  of 
drought,  where  fallen  temples  emerge  from  their  slimy  bed, 
were  made  in  honour  of  the  Ganges,  and  on  each  landing 
there  are  little  granite  altars,  shaped  like  niches,  in  which 
diminutive  gods  are  placed.  These  images  are  like  those 
of  the  temples,  but  they  are  of  more  massive  construction, 
so  as  to  withstand  the  swirl  of  the  waters  which  cover 
them  during  the  annual  rains. 

The  sun  has  just  risen  from  the  plain  through  which 
old  Ganges  wanders,  a  plain  of  mud  and  vegetation  still 
overshadowed  by  the  mists  of  night ;  and  waiting  there 
for  the  first  red  rays  of  dawn  lie  the  granite  temples  of 
Benares,  the  rosy  pyramids,  the  golden  shafts,  and  all  the 
sacred  city,  extended  in  terraces,  as  if  to  catch  the  first 
light  and  deck  itself  in  the  glory  of  the  morning. 

This  is  the  hour  which,  since  the  Brahmin  faith  began, 
has  been  sacred  to  prayer  and  to  religious  ecstasy,  and  it  is 
now  that  Benares  pours  forth  all  its  people,  all  its  flowers, 
all  its  garlands,  all  its  birds,  and  all  its  living  things  on  to  the 
banks  of  the  Ganges.  Awakened  by  the  kiss  of  the  sun, 
all  that  have  received  souls  from  Brahma  rush  joyously 


MORNING  ON  THE  GANGES  25 

down  the  granite  steps.  The  men,  whose  faces  beam  with 
calm  serenity,  are  garbed  in  Kashmir  shawls,  some  pink, 
some  yellow,  and  some  in  the  colours  of  the  dawn.  The 
women,  veiled  with  muslins  in  the  antique  style,  form 
white  groups  along  the  road,  and  the  reflection  from  their 
copper  ewers  and  drinking  vessels  shimmer  amongst  the 
silvery  glints  of  their  many  bracelets,  necklets,  and  the 
rings  which  they  wear  round  their  ankles.  Nobly  beauti- 
ful both  of  face  and  gait,  they  walk  like  goddesses,  while 
the  metal  rings  on  their  arms  and  feet  murmur  musically. 

And  to  the  river,  already  encumbered  with  garlands, 
each  one  comes  to  offer  a  new  wreath.  Some  have  twisted 
ropes  of  jasmine  flowers  which  look  like  white  necklets, 
others  garlands  of  Indian  pinks  whose  flowers  of  golden 
yellow  and  pale  sulphur  gleam  in  contrast,  resembling  the 
changing  colours  of  an  Indian  veil. 

And  the  birds  that  had  been  sleeping  all  along  friezes 
of  the  houses  and  the  palaces  awake  too  and  fill  the  air 
with  chirpings  and  with  song  in  the  mad  joy  of  dawn. 

In  all  the  temples  the  gods  have  their  morning  serenades, 
and  the  angry  roar  of  the  tom-toms,  the  wail  of  the  bag- 
pipes, and  the  howling  of  the  sacred  trumpets,  are  heard 
from  every  side. 

Naked  children  holding  each  other  by  the  hand  come 
in  gay  throngs ;  yoghis  and  slowly-moving  fakirs  descend 
the  steps  ;  the  sacred  cattle  advance  with  deliberate  steps, 
while  people  stand  respectfully  aside  offering  them  fresh 
wreaths  of  reeds  and  flowers.  They,  too,  seem  to  look 
on  the  splendours  of  the  sun,  and  in  their  harmless  fashion 
appear  to  understand  and  pray. 

Next  come  the  sheep  and  goats  ;  then  dogs  and  monkeys 
hurry  down  the  steps. 


26  MORNING  ON  THE  GANGES 

All  the  granite  temples  scattered  on  the  steps  that 
serve  as  niches  and  altars,  some  for  Vishnu,  some  for  the 
many-armed  Ganesa,  protrude  into  the  sunlight  their 
squat  little  gods — gods  which  are  grey  with  mud,  for 
they  have  slept  many  months  under  the  troubled  waters 
of  the  river  to  which  the  ashes  of  the  dead  are  consigned. 

Now  that  the  rays  of  the  sun  are  fierce  the  people 
shelter  under  large  umbrellas  whose  shade  awaits  them. 
For  these  huge  parasols,  which  resemble  gigantic  mush- 
rooms clustering  under  the  walls  of  the  city,  are  always 
left  open. 

The  many  rafts  and  the  lower  steps  are  thronged  with 
Brahmins,  who,  after  setting  down  their  flowers  and 
ewers,  hasten  to  disrobe.  Pink  and  white  muslins  and 
cashmeres  of  all  colours  lie  mingled  on  the  ground,  or  are 
hung  over  bamboo  canes,  and  now  the  matchless  nude 
forms  appear,  some  of  pale  bronze,  others  of  a  deeper 
shade. 

The  men,  slim  and  of  athletic  build,  plunge  to  their 
waists  into  the  sacred  waters.  The  women,  still  wear- 
ing a  veil  of  muslin  round  their  shoulders  and  waists, 
merely  plunge  their  many-ringed  arms  and  ankles  into 
the  Ganges ;  then  they  kneel  at  the  extremest  edge  and 
let  fall  their  long  unknotted  coils  of  hair  into  the  water. 
Then,  raising  their  heads  once  more,  they  allow  the 
water  dripping  from  their  drenched  hair  to  fall  upon  their 
necks  and  bosoms.  And  now  with  their  tightly-clinging 
draperies  they  look  like  some  statue  of  a  "  winged  Victory," 
more  beautiful  and  more  voluptuous  than  if  they  had  been 
nude. 

From  all  sides  the  bowing  people  shower  their  garlands 
and  their  flowers  into  the  Ganges ;  all  fill  their  ewers  and 


MORNING  ON  THE  GANGES  27 

jars  and  then,  stooping,  fill  their  hollowed  hand  and  drink. 
Here  religious  feeling  reigns  supreme,  and  no  sensual 
thought  ever  seems  to  assail  these  beauteous  mingled  forms. 
They  come  into  unconscious  contact  with  each  other,  but 
only  heed  the  river,  the  sun,  and  the  splendour  of  the  morn- 
ing in  a  dream  of  ecstasy.  And  when  the  long  ritual  is 
ended,  the  women  retire  to  their  homes,  while  the  men, 
seated  on  the  rafts  amid  their  garlands  dispose  themselves 
for  prayer. 

Oh !  the  joyful  awakenings  of  this  primeval  race,  pray- 
ing in  daily  unison  to  God,  where  the  poorest  may  find 
room  amongst  the  splendours  of  the  sun,  the  waters,  and  the 
flowers. 

All  the  life  of  Benares  centres  round  the  river.  People 
come  from  the  palaces  and  jungles  to  die  on  its  sacred 
banks,  and  the  old  and  the  sick  are  brought  here  by  their 
families  to  await  their  end.  The  relatives  never  return  to 
their  homes  in  the  country  after  the  death  has  taken  place, 
and  so  Benares,  which  already  contains  three  hundred 
thousand  inhabitants,  increases  rapidly  in  size.  For  those 
who  feel  their  end  approaching  this  is  the  spot  so  eagerly 
desired. 

Oh  !  to  die  at  Benares.  To  die  on  the  banks  of  the 
Ganges  !  To  have  one's  body  bathed  for  the  last  time,  and 
then  to  have  one's  ashes  strewn  into  the  river  1 


THE  COLORADO 

HENRY  GANNETT 

THE  country  drained  by  the  Colorado  River  is  a 
peculiar  region.  It  is  a  country  of  plateaus  and 
canons,  the  plateaus  mainly  arid  and  sterile,  where  the  few 
streams  flow  in  deep  gorges  far  below  the  surface. 

The  longest  and  most  northern  branch  of  the  Colorado 
is  Green  River,  which  heads  in  the  Wind  River  Moun- 
tains, against  the  sources  of  the  Bighorn  and  Snake  Rivers. 
This  stream,  in  its  long  course  towards  the  south,  receives 
the  waters  of  the  Uinta  from  the  west,  and  the  Yampa 
and  White  Rivers  from  the  east.  Near  latitude  38°  15' 
and  longitude  110°  it  is  joined  by  Grand  River,  a  stream  of 
nearly  equal  size,  which  heads  in  Middle  Park,  Colorado, 
drawing  its  first  supplies  of  water  from  the  snowfields  of 
Long  Peak.  The  stream  below  the  junction  of  these  two 
forks  is  known  as  the  Colorado. 

Below  their  junction,  the  principal  branches  of  the 
Colorado  from  the  east  are  the  San  Juan,  the  Colorado 
Chiquito,  Williams  Fork,  and  the  Gila ;  on  the  west,  the 
"  Dirty  Devil,"  Paria,  and  Virgin. 

This  region  is  limited  on  the  east,  north,  and  north-west 
by  high  mountain  ranges.  Its  surface  is  nearly  flat,  but  by 
no  means  unbroken.  There  is  little  rolling  or  undulating 
country.  Changes  of  level  take  place  by  very  gentle, 
uniform  slopes,  or  by  abrupt,  precipitous  steps.  A  large 
part  of  the  surface  consists  of  bare  rocks,  with  no  soil  or 
vegetation.  A  part  is  covered  with  a  thin  sandy  soil,  which 


COPYRIGHT,  1902,  BY  DETROIT  PHOTOGRAPHIC  COMPANY 
THE    COLORADO 


THE  COLORADO  29 

supports  a  growth  of  sage  and  cacti,  or  even  a  few  pinon 
pines  and  cedars.  The  only  vegetation  is  that  character- 
istic of  an  arid  country. 

This  aridity  has  modified  orographic  forms  to  an  aston- 
ishing degree.  Where,  under  different  climatic  conditions, 
there  would  be  produced  a  region  similar  in  most  respects 
to  the  prairies  of  the  Mississippi  valley,  we  find  a  country, 
flat  indeed,  or  inclined  at  low  angles,  but  one  whose  water- 
courses are  far  beneath  the  general  level,  deep  down  in 
canons,  hundreds,  thousands  of  feet  beneath  the  surface. 

Great  cliffs,  thousands  of  feet  in  height,  and  extending 
like  huge  walls  for  hundreds  of  miles,  change  the  level  of 
the  country  at  a  single  step.  ' 

Isolated  buttes  and  mesas,  of  great  height,  are  scattered 
over  the  plateaus,  indicating  the  former  height  of  the  plain 
of  which  they  formed  parts. 

"  The  landscape  everywhere,  away  from  the  river,  is  of 
rock — cliffs  of  rock,  tables  of  rock,  terraces  of  rock, 
crags  of  rock — ten  thousand  strangely  carved  forms. 
Rocks  everywhere,  and  no  vegetation  :  no  soil,  no  land. 
When  speaking  of  these  rocks,  we  must  not  conceive  of 
piles  of  boulders,  or  heaps  of  fragments,  but  a  whole  land 
of  naked  rock,  with  giant  forms  carved  on  it ;  cathedral- 
shaped  buttes,  towering  hundreds  or  thousands  of  feet ; 
cliffs  that  cannot  be  scaled,  and  canon  walls  that  shrink  the 
river  into  insignificance,  with  vast  hollow  domes  and  tall 
pinnacles,  and  shafts  set  on  verge  overhead,  and  all  highly 
coloured — buff,  grey,  red,  brown,  and  chocolate;  never 
lichened,  never  moss-covered,  but  bare  and  often 
polished." 

The  above  description  by  Major  J.  W.  Powell,  who 
has  explored  the  canons  of  the  Colorado,  gives  a  graphic 


30  THE  COLORADO 

pen-picture  of  the  lower  and  more  arid  plateaus  of  this 
region. 

Nearly  every  watercourse,  whether  the  stream  be  perennial 
or  not,  is  a  canon ;  a  narrow  valley,  with  precipitous  walls. 
In  many  cases,  these  canons  are  so  numerous  that  they  cut 
the  plateau  into  shreds — a  mere  skeleton  of  a  country.  Of 
such  a  section  Lieutenant  Ives,  who  explored  the  course  of 
lower  Colorado,  writes :  "  The  extent  and  magnitude  of 
the  system  of  canons  in  that  direction  is  astounding.  The 
plateau  is  cut  into  shreds  by  these  gigantic  chasms,  and 
resembles  a  vast  ruin.  Belts  of  country,  miles  in  width, 
have  been  swept  away,  leaving  only  isolated  mountains 
standing  in  the  gap ;  fissures  so  profound  that  the  eye  can- 
not penetrate  their  depths  are  separated  by  walls  whose 
thickness  one  can  almost  span ;  and  slender  spires,  that 
seem  tottering  on  their  base,  shoot  up  a  thousand  feet  from 
vaults  below." 

But  few  of  these  canons  contain  water  throughout  the 
year.  Most  of  them  are  dry  at  all  times,  excepting  for  a 
few  days  in  the  early  spring,  or  for  a  few  minutes  or  hours 
at  most  after  a  heavy  shower.  It  is  characteristic  of 
Western  North  America,  as  of  all  and  countries,  that  the 
streams,  away  from  their  sources  in  the  mountains,  lose 
water,  rather  than  gain  it,  in  traversing  the  lower  country. 
The  dry  atmosphere  and  the  thirsty  soil  absorb  it,  and,  in 
many  cases,  large  streams  entirely  disappear  in  this  way. 
This  is  the  case  to  a  great  extent  in  the  plateau  country, 
and  still  more  so  in  the  Great  Basin,  where  these  are  the 
only  outlets  to  the  drainage. 

Those  who  have  long  and  carefully  studied  the  Grand 
Canon  of  the  Colorado  do  not  hesitate  for  a  moment  to  pro- 
nounce it  by  far  the  most  sublime  of  all  earthly  spectacles. 


THE  COLORADO  31 

If  its  sublimity  consisted  only  in  its  dimensions,  it  could  be 
sufficiently  set  forth  in  a  single  sentence.  It  is  more  than 
200  miles  long,  from  five  to  twelve  miles  wide,  and  from 
5,000  to  6,000  feet  deep.  There  are  in  the  world  valleys 
which  are  longer  and  a  few  which  are  deeper.  There  are 
valleys  flanked  by  summits  loftier  than  the  palisades  of  the 
Kaibab.  Still  the  Grand  Canon  is  the  sublimest  thing  on 
earth.  It  is  not  alone  by  virtue  of  its  magnitudes,  but  by 
virtue  of  the  whole — its  ensemble. 

The  space  under  immediate  view  from  our  stand-point, 
fifty  miles  long  and  ten  to  twelve  wide,  is  thronged  with  a 
great  multitude  of  objects  so  vast  in  size,  so  bold  yet  majes- 
tic in  form,  so  infinite  in  their  details,  that  as  the  truth 
gradually  reveals  itself  to  the  perceptions  it  arouses  the 
strongest  emotions.  Unquestionably  the  great,  the  over- 
ruling feature  is  the  wall  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  gulf. 
Can  mortal  fancy  create  a  picture  of  a  mural  front  a  mile 
in  height,  seven  to  ten  miles  distant,  and  receding  into  space 
in  either  direction  ?  As  the  mind  strives  to  realize  its  pro- 
portions its  spirit  is  broken  and  its  imagination  completely 
crushed.  If  the  wall  were  simple  in  its  character,  if  it  were 
only  blank  and  sheer,  some  rest  might  be  found  in  contem- 
plating it;  but  it  is  full  of  diversity  and  eloquent  with  grand 
suggestions.  It  is  deeply  recessed  by  alcoves  and  amphi- 
theatres receding  far  into  the  plateau  beyond,  and  usually 
disclosing  only  the  portals  by  which  they  open  into  the 
main  chasm.  Between  them  the  promontories  jut  out  end- 
ing in  magnificent  gables  with  sharp  mitred  angles.  Thus 
the  wall  rambles  in  and  out,  turning  numberless  corners. 
Many  of  the  angles  are  acute,  and  descend  as  sharp  spurs 
like  the  forward  edge  of  a  ploughshare.  Only  those  al- 
coves which  are  directly  opposite  to  us  can  be  seen  in  their 


32  THE  COLORADO 

full  length  and  depth.  Yet  so  excessive,  nay,  so  prodigious, 
is  the  effect  of  foreshortening,  that  it  is  impossible  to  realize 
their  full  extensions. 

Numerous  detached  masses  are  also  seen  flanking  the 
ends  of  the  long  promontories.  These  buttes  are  of  gigan- 
tic proportions,  and  yet  so  overwhelming  is  the  effect  of  the 
wall  against  which  they  are  projected  that  they  seem  insig- 
nificant in  mass,  and  the  observer  is  often  deluded  by  them, 
failing  to  perceive  that  they  are  really  detached  from  the 
wall  and  perhaps  separated  from  it  by  an  interval  of  a  mile 
or  two. 

At  the  foot  of  this  palisade  is  a  platform  through  which 
meanders  the  inner  gorge,  in  whose  dark  and  sombre  depths 
flows  the  river.  Only  in  one  place  can  the  water  surface 
be  seen.  In  its  winding  the  abyss  which  holds  it  extends 
for  a  short  distance  towards  us  and  the  line  of  vision  enters 
the  gorge  lengthwise.  Above  and  below  this  short  reach 
the  gorge  swings  its  course  in  other  directions  and  re- 
veals only  a  dark,  narrow  opening,  while  its  nearer  wall 
hides  its  depth.  This  inner  chasm  is  1,000  to  2,000  feet 
deep.  Its  upper  200  feet  is  a  vertical  ledge  of  sandstone 
of  a  dark  rich  brownish  colour.  Beneath  it  lies  the  granite 
of  a  dark  iron-grey  shade,  verging  towards  black,  and 
lending  a  gloomy  aspect  to  the  lowest  deeps.  Perhaps  half 
a  mile  of  the  river  is  disclosed.  A  pale,  dirty  red,  without 
glimmer  or  sheen,  a  motionless  surface,  a  small  featureless 
spot  enclosed  in  the  dark  shade  of  the  granite,  is  all  of  it 
that  is  here  visible.  Yet  we  know  it  is  a  large  river,  150 
yards  wide,  with  a  headlong  torrent  foaming  and  plunging 
over  rocky  rapids. 

The  walls  of  the  Grand  Canon  and  the  level  of  the 
plateau  descend  by  a  succession  of  great  steps,  produced 


THE  COLORADO  33 

by  faults,  until  the  level  of  the  river  is  reached  at  the  mouth 
of  the  Grand  Wash  ;  and  thus  ends  the  Grand  Canon. 

Below  the  Grand  Wash,  a  dry  stream  bed  which  enters 
the  Colorado  from  the  north,  the  river  turns  south  again  and 
enters  the  Black  Canon  of  Lieutenant  Ives  report — a  canon 
which  would  be  a  remarkable  feature  were  it  not  brought 
into  such  close  juxtaposition  with  that  described  above. 

Below  it  the  river  runs  in  narrow  valleys  and  low  canons 
to  its  mouth. 


THE  AVON 

JOHN  WILSON  CROKER 

THERE  are  Avons  and  Avons.  Of  course,  Shake- 
speare's Avon  is  the  famous  stream  which  takes 
precedence  of  all  others.  It  rises  at  Naseby,  in  the  yard  of 
a  small  inn  near  the  church.  So  for  two  things  is  that  vil- 
lage of  Naseby  renowned.  A  good  many  years  ago  a  hos- 
pitable agriculturist,  resident  near  Naseby,  asked  me  to 
come  over  and  see  the  battle-field  and  source  of  the  Avon. 
I  came  and  saw.  The  battle-field,  truth  to  say,  impressed 
me  in  no  degree  more  than  the  river-head  ;  I  saw  a  quantity 
of  ploughed  land,  undulating  in  true  Northamptonshire 
fashion.  Doubtless  grim  old  Oliver  and  hot  Prince  Rupert 
saw  a  good  deal  more;  and  that  heavy  land  is  responsible 
for  many  oaths  on  the  part  of  the  prince,  and  prayers  from 
the  ever-prayerful  lips  of  the  Roundhead  general.  But 
Naseby  field  is  very  much  like  all  the  rest  of  Northampton- 
shire. There  is  not  a  hill  in  the  country,  or  a  brook  that 
a  boy  cannot  leap,  or  a  church,  spire  that  a  boy  cannot 
throw  a  stone  over,  or  enough  level  ground  for  a  game  of 
cricket.  Yet  it  is  a  capital  hunting  county  nevertheless. 

Descending  the  Avon  from  Naseby,  we  pass  through 
much  dreary  Northamptonshire  scenery.  At  a  village 
called  Catthorpe,  we  are  reminded  of  a  certain  poetaster 
named  Dyer.  Poetry  was  in  a  poor  state  when  the  author 
of  Grongar  Hill  could  be  considered  a  poet.  He  was  an 
amiable  clergyman,  who  wrote  mediocre  verse ;  but 
Horace's  opinion  of  such  verse  is  peculiarly  popular  in  the 


THE  AVON  35 

present  day.  The  first  town  of  any  consequence  which 
the  pedestrian  reaches  is  Lutterworth ;  and  concerning 
Lutterworth  there  is  little  to  be  said,  except  that  Wicliffe 
was  once  its  rector ;  and  the  ashes  of  the  great  reformer 
were  disinterred  by  certain  ecclesiastical  vultures,  and 
thrown  into  the  brook  which  runs  into  the  Avon  at  Lutter- 
worth. So  says  Fuller,  whom  Wordsworth  has  followed : 
"  This  brook  hath  conveyed  his  ashes  into  Avon,  Avon  into 
Severn,  Severn  into  the  narrow  seas,  they  into  the  main 
ocean.  And  thus  the  ashes  of  Wicliffe  are  the  emblem  of 
his  doctrine,  which  now  is  dispersed  all  the  world  over." 

The  next  town  is  Rugby ;  an  immortal  town,  forever 
connected  with  the  greatest  of  school-masters. 

The  scenery  about  Avon  begins  to  improve  near  Newn- 
ham  Regis ;  a  small  village,  remarkable  for  having  nothing 
of  the  church  left  except  the  tower.  The  rector  of  Church 
Lawford  is  also  vicar  of  King's  Newnham  j  and  as  the  two 
villages  cannot  count  five  hundred  inhabitants,  we  perhaps 
need  not  regret  the  destruction  of  the  ancient  church. 

The  city  of  Coventry  lies  not  very  far  from  the  Avon. 
It  is,  I  think,  the  dirtiest  place  in  England,  Bristol  and 
Birmingham  not  excepted.  In  days  gone  by  it  had  great 
fame,  this  Coventria  civitas ;  and  its  earl,  Leofric,  who  used 
to  stride  about  his  hall  among  his  dogs, 

"  His  beard  a  foot  before  him,  and  his  hair 
A  yard  behind," 

was  a  worthy  ancestor  of  Lord  Palmerston ;  and  we  all  re- 
member who  wrote, 

'  I  waited  for  the  train  at  Coventry  ; 
I  hung  with  grooms  and  porters  on  the  bridge, 
To  watch  the  three  tall  spires." 


36  THE  AVON 

What  strikes  me  in  this  city  of  Coventry — when  I  look 
at  those  noble  spires,  which  Tennyson  has  immortalized 
(St.  Michael's  is  second  to  Salisbury  only),  and  at  the 
splendid  city-hall — is  the  wonderful  change  between  the 
past  and  the  present.  It  is  now  one  of  the  most  sordid 
and  miserable  towns  in  the  empire.  What  generous  and 
magnificent  inhabitants  must  it  have  had  when  the  spires  of 
St.  Michael's  and  Trinity  were  raised  heavenwards  !  I'll 
be  hanged  if  Godiva  the  beautiful  would  have 

"  Unclasped  the  wedded  eagles  of  her  belt  " 

for  the  present  population  of  Coventry.  I  fear  that  among 
its  makers  of  watches  and  ribbons  there  are  goodly  number 
of  "  low  churls,  compact  of  thankless  earth." 

The  beauty  of  Avon  begins  where  it  enters  the  park  of 
Stoneleigh  Abbey,  seat  of  Lord  Leigh.  The  first  baron, 
when  Mr.  Chandos  Leigh,  published  some  elegant  poetry. 
His  title  to  the  estate  was  at  one  time  questioned  ;  and  an 
inventive  attorney  produced  a  most  marvellous  case  against 
him,  accusing  him  and  Lady  Leigh  of  pulling  down  one 
side  of  Stoneleigh  Church,  to  get  rid  of  some  genealogical 
testimony  furnished  by  the  Monuments,  and  of  causing  a 
huge  stone  to  be  dropped  on  some  men  who  were  engaged 
in  building  a  bridge  across  the  river  Sow,  it  being  important 
to  suppress  their  evidence ;  I  forget  how  many  murders  this 
lawyer  (who  very  justly  suffered  imprisonment)  charged 
against  one  of  the  gentlest  and  most  amiable  of  men.  Of 
the  old  abbey  nothing  is  left  but  a  gateway ;  and  the  great 
mansion  of  the  Leighs,  though  doubtless  magnificent  and 
luxurious  within,  has  no  external  beauty.  But  the  park  is 
redolent  of  As  you  like  it.  All  this  Warwickshire  woodland 
breathes  of  Shakespeare.  Under  these  stately  oaks,  the 


THE  AVON  37 

noblest  I  have  ever  seen,  beside  this  sparkling  river,  how 
sweet  it  were  to  moralize  with  melancholy  Jaques,  to  while 
away  the  golden  time  with  joyous  Rosalind !  As  the  trav- 
eller lies  beneath  a  patrician  tree,  amid  the  magical  noon- 
tide, well  might  he  fancy  the  mellow  voice  of  Amiens  in 
the  distance,  cheering  the  banished  Duke  with  music.  Of 
Stoneleigh  village  I  have  only  to  say,  that  when  last  there 
I  found  it  impossible  to  obtain  a  glass  of  ale ;  Lord  Leigh 
having  an  objection  to  that  wholesome  liquid.  An  English 
village  without  ale  is  awful  to  think  of. 

Two  miles  through  field  and  woodland,  and  we  are  at 
Kenilworth.  Wise  were  the  monks  when  they  settled 
down  in  that  green  valley.  Very  quaint  is  the  village  that 
clusters  round  the  old  church  ;  traditions  of  monastic  and 
baronial  times  linger  there  •,  the  exteriors  of  several  of  the 
antique  houses  made  me  wish  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  in- 
teriors and  their  inhabitants,  which  I  was  not  lucky  enough 
to  do.  They  are  just  the  sort  of  houses  where  a  good  din- 
ner and  a  bottle  of  rare  port  is  the  order  of  the  day.  The 
end  of  the  village  near  the  church  is  quite  another  affair; 
instead  of  seeming  coeval  with  the  castle  and  the  priory,  it 
appears  to  have  sprung  up  simultaneously  with  the  railway- 
station.  Extremes  meet  at  Kenilworth  :  in  these  modern 
villas  you  would  expect  to  find  no  inhabitant  less  active 
than  a  commercial  traveller ;  in  the  old  houses  at  the  other 
end  you  would  hardly  be  startled  by  an  interview  with  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh  or  rare  Ben  Jonson. 

Of  course  I  ought  to  describe  Kenilworth  Castle  ;  but  I 
cannot  do  it,  that's  a  fact ;  besides  which,  the  thing  has  been 
done  a  hundred  times.  It  is  a  glorious  ruin ;  and  as  one 
lies  on  the  turf  on  a  summer  day  in  the  shadow  of  its  grey 
stonework,  watching  the  flying  clouds,  and  the  choughs 


^3  THE  AVON 

in  the  ivy,  and  the  little  river  shimmering  through  the 
meadows,  and  the  immoveable  old  towers  decaying  in  their 
stately  strength,  there  descends  upon  the  spirit  a  mystic  and 
unutterable  feeling,  worth  more  than  all  the  poetry  ever 
written,  ay,  or  all  the  claret  ever  pressed  from  Bordeaux 
grapes. 

Avon  winds  back  into  Stoneleigh  Park  after  leaving 
Kenilworth,  and  passes  the  little  village  of  Ashow,  where 
I  tasted  the  juiciest  mulberries  I  ever  ate, — blood-ripe  as 
those  wherewith  the  laughing  Naiad  ^gle  stained  the 
temples  of  Silenus.  Cool  and  peaceful  is  that  pleasant  vil- 
lage, where  Avon  murmurs  softly  amid  reedy  islets.  Pass- 
ing onward,  we  see  a  cross  upon  a  wooded  hill :  there  poor 
Piers  Gaveston  was  beheaded,  some  five  centuries  and  a 
half  ago.  There  is  a  capitally  written  inscription  on  the 
cross.  Somewhat  farther  is  Milverton  Church,  with  a 
quaint  wooden  tower:  they  say  it  is  not  worth  while  to 
build  a  stone  one,  as  the  lightning  strikes  it  so  often.  But 
Guy's  Cliff! 

Perhaps  I  had  better  let  those  three  words  stand  as  sole 
suggestion  of  what  that  exquisite  residence  is.  The  strange 
legend  of  Guy  of  Warwick,  vanquisher  of  Colbrand  the 
Dane,  and  of  the  Dun  Cow,  hovers  around  this  delightful 
old  place.  But  I  don't  know  whether  Mr.  Bertie  Percy's 
poetic  dwelling  is  not  surpassed  by  the  mill  close  thereto. 

Few  places  I  have  seen  dwell  in  my  memory  like  this 
beautiful  old  mill,  surrounded  by  a  wealth  of  water,  a  luxury 
of  leafage.  If  there  be  mills  in  fairy-land,  they  are  built 
on  this  pattern.  If  the  miller's  daughter,  "  so  dear,  so 
dear"  to  the  Laureate  that  he  plagiarized  from  Anacreon 
for  her  sake,  had  any  actual  existence,  it  must  have  been  at 
a  mill  like  this  of  Guy's  Cliff. 


THE  AVON  39 

I  scarce  dare  approach  Warwick  after  Nathaniel  Haw- 
thorne. The  reaction  from  a  fast,  loud,  vulgar,  sordid  life, 
makes  the  most  refined  and  poetic  natures  of  America 
dreamers  of  dreams.  Such,  with  especial  emphasis,  was 
Hawthorne.  To  him  the  ideal  was  more  real  than  reality. 
What  visions  he  saw  in  Warwick,  where  the  great  castle 
"  floats  double  "  in  the  lucid  Avon ;  where  a  strange  old- 
world  tranquillity  broods  over  the  famous  Earl  of  Leicester's 
antique  hospital !  After  Windsor  (and  I  do  not  forget 
Alnwick),  I  think  Warwick  the  noblest  castellated  building 
in  England.  Built  into  the  solid  rock,  it  overhangs  Avon 
with  a  wild  sublimity.  As  you  look  down  from  the  win- 
dows of  the  great  hall  upon  the  river  far  beneath,  you 
think  that  thus  may  Guinevere  and  Lancelot  have  looked, 
when  the  angry  Queen  cast  into  the  water  the  nine  great 
diamonds,  while  the  doomed  barge  bore  to  her  burial  the 
lily  maid  of  Astolat.  Why  over  that  old  broken  bridge, 
green  with  the  ivy  of  a  thousand  years,  may  not  the  blame- 
less King  have  passed,  and  Merlin  the  sage,  and  Tristram 
of  Lyonnesse,  leading  Iseult  of  Ireland  ?  Who  knows  ? 
Are  these  things  fables  ?  Are  ye  enchanters,  Alfred  Tenny- 
son and  Matthew  Arnold  ? 

The  Earl  of  Warwick's  courtesy  throws  the  castle  open 
to  the  public  two  or  three  days  a  week.  Rumour  says  that 
the  late  Earl's  housekeeper,  whose  monument  may  be  seen 
in  Warwick  Church,  left  her  master  sixty  thousand  pounds, 
accumulated  by  visitors'  fees !  At  the  very  gateway  you 
are  met  by  wonders, — an  iron  porridge-pot  of  the  great  Sir 
Guy,  holding  a  hogshead  or  two,  I  suppose.  The  old 
knight  must  have  had  a  rare  appetite  for  breakfast.  There 
is  also  his  sword,  a  gigantic  weapon,  which  I  defy  Jacob 
Omnium  to  wield  with  both  hands.  As  for  the  contents 


40  THE  AVON 

of  the  castle,  I  will  not  say  a  word  about  them ;  though  of 
historical  portraits,  Vandykes  and  Rubenses,  there  is  a  fine 
collection.  I  commend  the  traveller  upon  looking  out 
upon  Avon  from  those  wondrous  rooms,  to  call  back,  if  he 
can,  the  heroic  and  poetic  times  when  it  was  possible  to 
build  such  a  castle ;  when  it  seemed  fit  habitation  for  those 
who  dwelt  in  it, — for  Neville  the  Kingmaker,  to  wit,  who 
fills  a  marvellous  page,  brilliant  with  gold  and  stained  with 
blood,  in  England's  history  j  and  who  well  deserved  to  be 
found  in  Shakespeare's  peerless  portrait-gallery. 

Warwick  town  is  very  quaint,  and  has  two  old-fashioned 
hostelries,  the  Warwick  Arms  and  the  Woolpack,  at  either 
of  which  a  hungry  and  thirsty  traveller  will  find  ample  re- 
freshment of  the  right  sort.  From  the  top  of  Warwick 
Church  tower  there  is  a  magnificent  view  over  a  rich 
country.  The  church's  chief  glory  is  the  Beauchamp 
Chapel,  just  400  years  old,  a  perfect  poem  in  stone,  an  ab- 
solute triumph  of  the  good  old  artist-workmen,  who  find 
no  rivals  in  the  days  when  artists  are  never  workmen, 
and  workmen  never  artists.  Its  dead  inhabitant  was  last 
of  the  Beauchamp  Earls,  and  that  crowned  saint, 
Henry  VI.,  conferred  the  earldom  upon  the  Kingmaker ; 
thus  commencing  the  third  line  of  its  holders,  for  the  first 
Earl  was  a  Newburgh,  or  Neuburg,  of  the  Conqueror's 
creation  ;  then,  two  centuries  later,  it  passed  through  a 
female  to  the  Beauchamps ;  two  centuries  more,  and  the  last 
Beauchamp  was  succeeded  by  a  Nevil ;  on  Nevil's  death, 
"  false,  fleeting,  perjured  Clarence  "  had  the  earldom,  whose 
son,  last  of  the  Plantagenets,  ended  the  fourth  line,  when  he 
and  Perkin  Warbeck  died  on  Tower  Hill;  next  came  the 
Dudleys,  creatures  of  Henry  VIII.,  the  elder  of  whom, 
Lady  Jane  Grey's  father-in-law  and  worst  enemy,  is  better 


THE  AVON  41 

known  as  Duke  of  Northumberland ;  then  Lord  Rich, 
whose  great  grand-son  married  Cromwell's  daughter,  was 
created  Earl  of  Warwick  by  James  I. ;  and  finally  George 
II.  conferred  the  title  on  Greville,  Earl  Brooke,  ancestor 
of  the  present  Earl.  Thus  six  families  at  least  have  held 
this  famous  earldom. 

The  traveller  will  of  course  turn  aside  to  Leamington, 
town  of  fashion  and  frivolity,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
the  poetic  stream.  Leamington  owes  its  existence,  as  any- 
thing beyond  a  village,  to  one  Dr.  Jephson,  who  hit  on  the 
brilliant  notion  that  the  mineral  waters  of  the  place  would 
cure  all  possible  diseases.  A  great  hotel  sprang  up,  the 
Regent,  which  for  years  was  a  kind  of  hospital  for  Dr. 
Jephson's  patients.  This  medical  genius  is  quite  deified  in 
the  town.  There  are  pleasant  gardens  dedicated  to  him, 
to  which  none  are  admitted  save  subscribers  of  a  guinea,  or 
something  of  the  sort.  It  is  a  downright  apotheosis  (or 
apodiabolosis)  of  physic.  But  other  causes  concurred  to 
bring  Leamington  into  the  first  rank  of  pleasure  towns : 
there  is  capital  hunting  in  the  neighbourhood,  and  a  first-rate 
pack  of  hounds.  It  is  almost  the  metropolis  of  archery,  a 
pastime  which  young  ladies  wisely  patronize,  since  a  pretty 
girl  cannot  look  prettier  than  in  her  toxophilite  costume  of 
Lincoln-green.  Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the 
walk  by  the  margin  of  Avon  through  Lord  Warwick's 
park.  After  passing  through  several  pleasant  villages,  full  of 
Warwickshire  quaintness,  we  reach  Charlecote  House,  the 
seat  of  the  Lucy  family.  It  has  always  appeared  to  me 
that  Haydon  more  admirably  than  any  man  expressed  the 
feeling  which  is  produced  in  poetic  minds  by  the  places 
sacred  to  Shakespeare.  Painting  under  the  stress  of  a 
noble  ambition,  with  the  sad  certainty  that  the  age  could 


42  THE  AVON 

not  perceive  his  greatness,  had  injured  his  health  j  instead 
of  joining  "  the  vulgar  idlers  at  a  watering-place  "  he  sought 
change  of  scene  at  Stratford.  How  the  man  enjoyed  it, 
and  how  vigorously  he  depicts  his  enjoyment !  "  To 
Charlecote,"  says  he,  "  I  walked  as  fast  as  my  legs  could 
carry  me,  and  crossing  the  meadow,  entered  the  im- 
mortalized park  by  a  back  pathway.  Trees,  gigantic  and 
umbrageous,  at  once  announce  the  growth  of  centuries  : 
while  I  was  strolling  on,  I  caught  a  distant  view  of  the  old 
red-bricked  house,  in  the  same  style  and  condition  as  when 
Shakespeare  lived ;  and  on  going  close  to  the  river-side, 
came  at  once  on  two  enormous  old  willows,  with  a  large 
branch  across  the  stream,  such  as  Ophelia  hung  to.  Every 
blade  of  grass,  every  daisy  and  cowslip,  every  hedge-flower 
and  tuft  of  tawny  earth,  every  rustling,  ancient  and 
enormous  tree  which  curtains  the  sunny  park  with  its  cool 
shadows,  between  which  the  sheep  glitter  on  the  emerald 
green  in  long  lines  of  light,  every  ripple  of  the  river  with 
its  placid  tinkle, 

"  Giving  a  gentle  kiss  to  every  sedge 
It  overtaketh  in  its  pilgrimage," 

announced  the  place  where  Shakespeare  imbibed  his  early, 
deep,  and  native  taste  for  forest  scenery.  Oh,  it  was  de- 
lightful, indeed  !  Shakespeare  seemed  to  hover  and  bless  all 
I  saw,  thought  of,  or  trod  on.  Those  great  roots  of  the 
lime  and  the  oak,  bursting,  as  it  were,  above  the  ground, 
bent  up  by  the  depth  they  had  struck  into  it,  Shakespeare 
had  seen — Shakespeare  had  sat  on. 

In  the  same  spirit  of  delight,  and  with  the  same  realizing 
power,  did  the  great  painter — one  of  those 

"  Mighty  poets  in  their  misery  dead," 


THE  AVON  43 

"  of  whom  the  world  was  not  worthy  " — enjoy  Stratford  it- 
self. Thus  does  he  write  of  what  he  felt  as  sunset  descended 
on  the  church  where  lies  all  that  was  mortal  of  God's 
greatest  human  creature.  "  I  stood  and  drank  into  enthusi- 
asm all  a  human  being  could  feel ;  all  that  the  most  ardent 
and  devoted  lover  of  a  great  genius  could  have  a  sensation 
of;  all  that  the  most  tender  scenery  of  river,  trees,  and  sun- 
set sky  together  could  excite.  I  was  lost,  quite  lost ;  and 
in  such  a  moment  should  wish  my  soul  to  take  its  flight  (if 
it  please  God)  when  my  time  is  finished."  God  willed 
otherwise ;  that  great  soul  took  flight  in  a  moment,  not  of 
delight,  but  of  agony. 

There  seem  to  be  always  American  visitors  at  Stratford. 
The  refined  and  thoughtful  Americans,  like  Washington 
Irving  and  Hawthorne,  have  by  the  intensity  of  their 
reverie,  thrown  a  halo  of  fresh  beauty  around  many  places 
sacred  to  genius.  But  too  many  of  these  trans-atlantic 
travellers  merely  visit  a  place  like  Stratford  just  to  say  they 
have  been  there ;  and  people  of  that  kind  are  singularly  un- 
pleasant to  meet.  There  is  a  story  that  one  Yankee  offered 
an  enormous  sum  of  money  for  Shakespeare's  house,  to  take 
it  to  the  States  for  exhibition. 

I  must  hurry  on.  Village  after  village,  quaint  and 
beautiful,  lie  along  the  margin  of  Avon ;  the  keen  eye  will 
notice  whence  Shakespeare  drew^his  choicest  descriptions  of 
nature ;  the  longest  summer-day  will  not  be  too  long  to 
loiter  around  the  vicinity  of  Stratford.  One  of  the  best 
proofs  that  Avon  River  flows  through  rich  and  lovely 
country  is  the  multitude  of  monastic  institutions  which  have 
left  their  names  to  the  villages,  with  here  and  there  a  noble 
tower  or  graceful  gateway. 

Founders    of    abbeys    loved    a  pleasant    river   flowing 


44  THE  AVON 

through  fertile  meadows  j  salmon  and  trout  and  eels  for  fast- 
days  were  as  important  as  beeves  and  deer  for  festivals. 
So  there  are  more  conventual  remains  between  Naseby  and 
Tewkesbury  than  in  almost  any  equal  distance  of  which  I 
have  knowledge  ;  and  the  glory  of  those  old  ecclesiastic 
foundations  is  peculiarly  realized  as  the  noble  bell-tower  of 
Evesham  Abbey  rises  above  the  town.  The  great  monas- 
tery had  lasted  more  than  a  thousand  years  when  the  ruth- 
less hand  of  Henry  VIII.  fell  upon  it.  The  bell-tower 
and  a  most  delightful  old  gateway  are  the  only  relics  of  it 
left. 

The  pilgrim  through  the  beautiful  Vale  of  Evesham 
comes  upon  another  battle-field,  where,  600  years  ago,  fell 
a  famous  leader  of  the  Commons  against  the  Crown. 
Simon  de  Montfort  fought  for  the  right,  so  far  as  we  can 
judge  at  this  remote  period  ;  but  his  antagonist  was  the 
greatest  general  of  the  day,  and  afterwards  became  Eng- 
land's greatest  king.  He  was  but  twenty-six  when  he  won 
the  immortal  victory  known  as  the  Murder  of  Evesham. 
If  Montfort  gave  England  its  first  parliament,  Edward 
gave  us  Wales  and  Scotland,  and  made  the  priests  pay  taxes 
in  defiance  of  the  Pope.  A  poetic  prince,  as  well  as  a 
gallant ;  for  did  he  not,  when  Eleanora  the  Castilian  died  in 
Lincolnshire,  cause  Peter  1'Imagineur  to  build  a  stately 
cross  wherever  her  corpse  rested  on  its  way  to  Westmin- 
ster ?  Thanks  to  the  poetry  of  a  railway  company, 
London  sees  the  last  and  stateliest  of  those  crosses  rebuilt  in 
what  was  once  the  quiet  village  of  Charing. 

There  was  another  abbey  at  Pershore,  which  takes  its 
name  from  its  abundant  pear-trees.  Bredon  Hill,  not  far 
from  this  town,  is  worth  climbing,  for  its  fine  view  towards 
the  Malverns.  At  the  village  of  Strensham  the  author  of 


THE  AVON  45 

Hudibras  was  born.  I  must  not  be  retarded  by  reminis- 
cences of  that  most  humorous  writer  of  wonderful  doggerel  i 
but  pass  on  to  Tewkesbury,  last  of  the  towns  on  the  Avon, 
which  here  falls  into  the  wide  and  shining  Severn.  Tewkes- 
bury had  also  its  abbey  and  its  famous  battle ;  it  has,  more- 
over, its  legend  of  that  unfortunate  gentleman,  Brictric  of 
Bristol,  who,  somewhere  about  the  noon  of  the  Eleventh 
Century,  made  love  to  Matilda,  daughter  of  Count  Baldwin 
of  Flanders,  and  then  jilted  her.  'Twas  the  unluckiest 
action  of  his  life.  For  Matilda  married  a  certain  fierce  and 
resolute  Duke  of  Normandy,  who  used  to  thrash  her  occa- 
sionally ;  and  this  same  duke  became  King  of  England  by 
the  strong  hand  ;  and  then  Matilda  coaxed  him  (nothing 
loth,  I  guess)  to  seize  all  Brictric's  wide  demesnes,  and 
imprison  their  owner.  So  the  poor  fellow  died  in  Win- 
chester Castle  ;  and  his  manors  in  half-a-dozen  counties,  as 
may  be  seen  by  Domesday  book,  passed  into  the  hands  of 
the  queen.  So  much  for  the  spretce  injuria  formes. 


DOWN  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE 

CHARLES  DICKENS 

QUEENSTON,  at  which  place  the  steamboats  start 
from  Toronto  (or  I  should  rather  say  at  which  place 
they  call,  for  their  wharf  is  at  Lewiston,  on  the  opposite 
shore),  is  situated  in  a  delicious  valley,  through  which  the 
Niagara  River,  in  colour  a  very  deep  green,  pursues  its 
course.  It  is  approached  by  a  road  that  takes  its  winding 
way  among  the  heights  by  which  the  town  is  sheltered  ; 
and  seen  from  this  point  is  extremely  beautiful  and  pic- 
turesque. 

Our  steamboat  came  up  directly  this  had  left  the  wharf, 
and  soon  bore  us  to  the  mouth  of  the  Niagara  :  where  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  of  America  flutter  on  one  side,  and  the 
Union  Jack  of  England  on  the  other  :  and  so  narrow  is  the 
space  between  them  that  the  sentinels  in  either  fort  can 
often  hear  the  watchword  of  the  other  country  given. 
Thence  we  emerged  on  Lake  Ontario,  an  inland  sea ;  and 
by  half-past  six  o'clock  were  at  Toronto. 

The  country  round  this  town  being  very  flat,  is  bare  of 
scenic  interest ;  but  the  town  itself  is  full  of  life  and  mo- 
tion, bustle,  business,  and  improvement.  The  streets  are 
well  paved,  and  lighted  with  gas ;  the  houses  are  large  and 
good  ;  the  shops  excellent.  Many  of  them  have  a  display 
of  goods  in  their  windows,  such  as  may  be  seen  in  thriving 
county  towns  in  England  ;  and  there  are  some  which  would 
do  no  discredit  to  the  metropolis  itself. 

The  time  of  leaving  Toronto  for  Kingston  is  noon.     By 


DOWN  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE  47 

eight  o'clock  next  morning,  the  traveller  is  at  the  end  of 
his  journey,  which  is  performed  by  steamboat  upon  Lake 
Ontario,  calling  at  Port  Hope  and  Coburg,  the  latter  a 
cheerful,  thriving  little  town.  Vast  quantities  of  flour  form 
the  chief  item  in  the  freight  of  these  vessels.  We  had  no 
fewer  than  one  thousand  and  eighty  barrels  on  board,  be- 
tween Coburg  and  Kingston. 

We  left  Kingston  for  Montreal  on  the  tenth  of  May,  at 
half-past  nine  in  the  morning,  and  proceeded  in  a  steam- 
boat down  the  St.  Lawrence  River.  The  beauty  of  this 
noble  stream  at  almost  any  point,  but  especially  in  the 
commencement  of  this  journey  when  it  winds  its  way  among 
the  Thousand  Islands,  can  hardly  be  imagined.  The  num- 
ber and  constant  successions  of  these  islands,  all  green  and 
richly  wooded ;  their  fluctuating  sizes,  some  so  large  that 
for  half  an  hour  together  one  among  them  will  appear  as 
the  opposite  bank  of  the  river,  and  some  so  small  that  they 
are  mere  dimples  on  its  broad  bosom ;  their  infinite  variety 
of  shapes ;  and  the  numberless  combinations  of  beautiful 
forms  which  the  trees  growing  on  them  present :  all  form 
a  picture  fraught  with  uncommon  interest  and  pleasure. 

In  the  afternoon  we  shot  down  some  rapids  where  the 
river  boiled  and  bubbled  strangely,  and  where  the  force 
and  headlong  violence  of  the  current  were  tremendous.  At 
seven  o'clock  we  reached  Dickenson's  Landing,  whence 
travellers  proceed  for  two  or  three  hours  by  stage-coach  : 
the  navigation  of  the  river  being  rendered  so  dangerous  and 
difficult  in  the  interval,  by  rapids,  that  steamboats  do  not 
make  the  passage.  The  number  and  length  of  those  port- 
ages, over  which  the  roads  are  bad,  and  the  travelling  slow, 
render  the  way  between  the  towns  of  Montreal  and  Kings- 
ton somewhat  tedious. 


48  DOWN  THE  ST.   LAWRENCE 

Our  course  lay  over  a  wide,  uninclosed  tract  of  country 
at  a  little  distance  from  the  riverside,  whence  the  bright 
warning  lights  on  the  dangerous  parts  of  the  St.  Lawrence 
shone  vividly.  The  night  was  dark  and  raw,  and  the  way 
dreary  enough.  It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  we  reached 
the  wharf  where  the  next  steamboat  lay;  and  went  on 
board,  and  to  bed. 

She  lay  there  all  night,  and  started  as  soon  as  it  was  day. 
The  morning  was  ushered  in  by  a  violent  thunder-storm, 
and  was  very  wet,  but  gradually  improved  and  brightened 
up.  Going  on  deck  after  breakfast,  I  was  amazed  to  see 
floating  down  with  the  stream,  a  most  gigantic  raft,  with  some 
thirty  or  forty  wooden  houses  upon  it,  and  at  least  as  many 
flag-masts,  so  that  it  looked  like  a  nautical  street.  I  saw 
many  of  these  rafts  afterwards,  but  never  one  so  large.  All 
the  timber,  or  "  lumber,"  as  it  is  called  in  America,  which 
is  brought  down  the  St.  Lawrence,  is  floated  down  in  this 
manner.  When  the  raft  reaches  its  place  of  destination,  it 
is  broken  up ;  the  materials  are  sold,  and  the  boatmen  re- 
turn for  more. 

At  eight  we  landed  again,  and  travelled  by  a  stage-coach 
for  four  hours  through  a  pleasant  and  well-cultivated  coun- 
try, perfectly  French  in  every  respect :  in  the  appearance 
of  the  cottages ;  the  air,  language,  and  dress  of  the  peas- 
antry ;  the  signboards  on  the  shops  and  taverns ;  and  the 
Virgin's  shrines,  and  crosses,  by  the  wayside.  Nearly  every 
common  labourer  and  boy,  though  he  had  no  shoes  to  his 
feet,  wore  round  his  waist  a  sash  of  some  bright  colour: 
generally  red :  and  the  women,  who  were  working  in  the 
fields  and  gardens,  and  doing  all  kinds  of  husbandry,  wore, 
one  and  all,  great  flat  straw  hats  with  most  capacious  brims. 
There  were  Catholic  Priests  and  Sisters  of  Charity  in  the 


DOWN  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE  49 

village  streets  ;  and  images  of  the  Saviour  at  the  corners  of 
cross-roads,  and  in  other  public  places. 

At  noon  we  went  on  board  another  steamboat,  and  reached 
the  village  of  Lachine,  nine  miles  from  Montreal,  by  three 
o'clock.  There  we  left  the  river,  and  went  on  by  land. 

Montreal  is  pleasantly  situated  on  the  margin  of  the  St. 
Lawrence,  and  is  backed  by  some  bold  heights,  about  which 
there  are  charming  rides  and  drives.  The  streets  are  gen- 
erally narrow  and  irregular,  as  in  most  French  towns  of 
any  age  ;  but  in  the  more  modern  parts  of  the  city,  they  are 
wide  and  airy.  They  display  a  great  variety  of  very  good 
shops  ;  and  both  in  the  town  and  suburbs  there  are  many 
excellent  private  dwellings.  The  granite  quays  are  re- 
markable for  their  beauty,  solidity  and  extent. 

There  is  a  very  large  Catholic  cathedral  here,  recently 
erected;  with  two  tall  spires,  of  which  one  is  yet  unfin- 
ished. In  the  open  space  in  front  of  this  edifice,  stands  a 
solitary,  grim-looking,  square  brick  tower,  which  has  a 
quaint  and  remarkable  appearance,  and  which  the  wiseacres 
of  the  place  have  consequently  determined  to  pull  down 
immediately.  The  Government  House  is  very  superior  to 
that  at  Kingston,  and  the  town  is  full  of  life  and  bustle. 
In  one  of  the  suburbs  is  a  plank  road — not  foot-path — five 
or  six  miles  long,  and  a  famous  road  it  is,  too.  All  the  rides 
in  the  vicinity  were  made  doubly  interesting  by  the  burst- 
ing out  of  spring,  which  is  here  so  rapid,  that  it  is  but  a 
day's  leap  from  barren  winter,  to  the  blooming  youth  of 
summer. 

The  steamboats  to  Quebec  perform  the  journey  in  the 
night;  that  is  to  say,  they  leave  Montreal  at  six  in  the 
evening,  and  arrive  in  Quebec  at  six  next  morning.  We 
made  this  excursion  during  our  stay  in  Montreal  (which  ex- 


50  DOWN  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE 

ceeded  a  fortnight),  and  were  charmed  by  its  interest  and 
beauty. 

The  impression  made  upon  the  visitor  by  this  Gibraltar 
of  America :  its  giddy  heights ;  its  citadel  suspended,  as  it 
were,  in  the  air  j  its  picturesque  steep  streets  and  frowning 
gateways ;  and  the  splendid  views  which  burst  upon  the 
eye  at  every  turn :  is  at  once  unique  and  lasting.  It  is  a 
place  not  to  be  forgotten  or  mixed  up  in  the  mind  with 
other  places,  or  altered  for  a  moment  in  the  crowd  of  scenes 
a  traveller  can  recall.  Apart  from  the  realities  of  this  most 
picturesque  city,  there  are  associations  clustering  about  it 
which  would  make  a  desert  rich  in  interest.  The  danger- 
ous precipice  along  whose  rocky  front  Wolfe  and  his  brave 
companions  climbed  to  glory ;  the  Plains  of  Abraham, 
where  he  received  his  mortal  wound ;  the  fortress,  so  chiv- 
alrously defended  by  Montcalm;  and  his  soldier's  grave, 
dug  for  him  while  yet  alive,  by  the  bursting  of  a  shell ; 
are  not  the  least  among  them,  or  among  the  gallant  inci- 
dents of  history.  That  is  a  noble  Monument,  too,  and 
worthy  of  two  great  nations,  which  perpetuates  the  memory 
of  both  brave  generals,  and  on  which  their  names  are 
jointly  written. 

The  city  is  rich  in  public  institutions  and  in  Catholic 
churches  and  charities,  but  it  is  mainly  in  the  prospect 
from  the  site  of  the  Old  Government  House,  and  from  the 
Citadel,  that  its  surpassing  beauty  lies.  The  exquisite  ex- 
panse of  country,  rich  in  field  and  forest,  mountain-height 
and  water,  which  lies  stretched  out  before  the  view,  with 
miles  of  Canadian  villages,  glancing  in  long  white  streaks, 
like  veins  along  the  landscape  ;  the  motley  crowd  of  gables, 
roofs,  and  chimney-tops  in  the  old  hilly  town  immediately 
at  hand;  the  beautiful  St.  Lawrence  sparkling  and  flashing 


DOWN  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE  51 

in  the  sunlight ;  and  the  tiny  ships  below  the  rock  from 
which  you  gaze,  whose  distant  rigging  looks  like  spiders' 
webs  against  the  light,  while  casks  and  barrels  on  their 
decks  dwindle  into  toys,  and  busy  mariners  become  so  many 
puppets  :  all  this,  framed  by  a  sunken  window  in  the  fortress 
and  looked  at  from  the  shadowed  room  within,  forms  one 
of  the  brightest  and  the  most  enchanting  pictures  that  the 
eye  can  rest  upon. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year,  vast  numbers  of  emigrants  who 
have  newly  arrived  from  England  or  from  Ireland,  pass  be- 
tween Quebec  and  Montreal  on  their  way  to  the  backwoods 
and  new  settlements  of  Canada.  If  it  be  an  entertaining 
lounge  (as  I  very  often  found  it)  to  take  a  morning  stroll 
upon  the  quay  at  Montreal,  and  see  them  grouped  in  hun- 
dreds on  the  public  wharfs  about  their  chests  and  boxes,  it 
is  matter  of  deep  interest  to  be  their  fellow-passenger  on 
one  of  these  steamboats,  and,  mingling  with  the  concourse, 
see  and  hear  them  unobserved. 


THE  TIGRIS 

GEORGE  RAWLINSON 

THE  Tigris,  like  the  Euphrates,  rises  from  two  prin- 
cipal sources.  The  most  distant,  and  therefore  the 
true  source  is  the  western  one,  which  is  in  latitude  38°  10' 
longitude,  39°  20',  nearly,  a  little  to  the  south  of  the  high 
mountain  lake  called  Goljik,  in  the  peninsula  formed  by 
the  Euphrates  where  it  sweeps  round  between  Palon  and 
Telek.  The  Tigris's  source  is  near  the  south-western  angle 
of  the  lake,  and  cannot  be  more  than  two  or  three  miles 
from  the  channel  of  the  Euphrates.  The  course  of  the 
Tigris  is  at  first  somewhat  north  of  east,  but  after  pursuing 
this  direction  for  about  twenty-five  miles  it  makes  a  sweep 
round  to  the  south,  and  descends  by  Arghani  Maden  upon 
Diarbekr.  Here  is  a  river  of  considerable  size,  and  it  is 
crossed  by  a  bridge  of  ten  arches  a  little  below  that  city. 
It  then  turns  suddenly  to  the  east,  and  flows  in  this  direc- 
tion past  Osman  Kieui  to  Til  where  it  once  more  alters 
its  course  and  takes  that  south-easterly  direction,  which  it 
pursues  with  certain  slight  variations,  to  its  final  junctions 
with  the  Euphrates.  At  Osman  Kieui  it  receives  the  sec- 
ond or  Eastern  Tigris,  which  descends  from  Niphates,  with 
a  due  course  south,  .and,  collecting  on  its  way  the  waters  of 
a  large  number  of  streams,  unites  with  the  Tigris  half-way 
between  Diarbekr  and  Til,  in  longitude  41°  nearly.  Near 
Til  a  large  stream  flows  into  it  from  the  north-east,  bringing 
almost  as  much  water  as  the  main  channel  ordinarily  holds. 


THE  TIGRIS  53 

The  length  of  the  whole  stream,  exclusive  of  meanders,  is 
reckoned  at  1,146  miles.  From  Diarbekr  to  Samara  the 
navigation  is  much  impeded  by  rapids,  rocks  and  shallows, 
as  well  as  by  artificial  bunds  or  dams,  which  in  ancient 
times  were  thrown  across  the  stream,  probably  for  purposes 
of  irrigation.  The  average  width  of  the  Tigris  in  this 
part  of  its  course  is  200  yards,  while  its  depth  is  very  con- 
siderable. From  the  west  the  Tigris  obtains  no  tributary 
of  the  slightest  importance,  for  the  Tharthar,  which  is  said 
to  have  once  reached  it,  now  ends  in  a  salt  lake,  a  little  be- 
low Tekrit.  Its  volume,  however,  is  continually  increasing 
as  it  descends,  in  consequence  of  the  great  bulk  of  water 
brought  in  from  the  east,  particularly  by  the  Great  Zab  and 
the  Diyaleh. 

The  Tigris,  like  the  Euphrates,  has  a  flood  season.  Early 
in  the  month  of  March,  in  consequence  of  the  melting  of 
the  snow  on  the  southern  flank  of  Niphates,  the  river  rises 
rapidly.  Its  breadth  gradually  increases  at  Diarbekr  from 
100  or  1 20  to  250  yards.  The  stream  is  swift  and  turbid. 
The  rise  continues  through  March  and  April,  reaching  its 
full  height  generally  in  the  first  or  second  week  of  May. 
At  this  time  the  country  about  Baghdad  is  often  extensively 
flooded,  not,  however,  so  much  from  the  Tigris  as  from  the 
overflow  of  the  Euphrates,  which  is  here  poured  into  the 
eastern  stream  through  a  canal.  About  the  middle  of  May 
the  Tigris  begins  to  fall,  and  by  midsummer  it  has  reached 
its  normal  level. 

We  find  but  little  mention  of  the  Tigris  in  Scripture.  It 
appears  indeed  under  the  name  of  Hiddekel,  among  the 
rivers  of  Eden,  and  is  there  correctly  described  as  "  run- 
ning eastward  to  Assyria."  But  after  this  we  hear  no  more 
of  it,  if  we  except  one  doubtful  allusion  in  Nahum,  until 


54  THE  TIGRIS 

the  Captivity,  when  it  becomes  well  known  to  the  prophet 
Daniel,  who  had  to  cross  it  in  his  journeys  to  and  from 
Susa.  With  Daniel  it  is  "  the  Great  River  " — an  expres- 
sion commonly  applied  to  the  Euphrates  ;  and  by  its  side  he 
sees  some  of  his  most  important  visions.  No  other  men- 
tion seems  to  occur  except  in  the  apocryphal  books;  and 
there  it  is  unconnected  with  any  real  history.  The  Tigris, 
in  its  upper  course,  anciently  ran  through  Armenia  and 
Assyria.  Lower  down,  from  above  the  point  where  it 
enters  on  the  alluvial  plain,  it  separated  Babylonia  from  Su- 
siana.  In  the  wars  between  the  Romans  and  the  Parthians 
we  find  it  constituting,  for  a  short  time  (from  A.  D.  1 14  to 
A.  D.  117),  the  boundary  line  between  these  two  em- 
pires. Otherwise  it  has  scarcely  been  of  any  political  im- 
portance. The  great  chain  of  Zagros  is  the  main  natural 
boundary  between  Western  and  Central  Asia ;  and  beyond 
this,  the  next  defensible  line  is  the  Euphrates.  Historically 
it  is  found  that  either  the  central  power  pushes  itself  west- 
ward to  that  river ;  or  the  power  ruling  the  west  advances 
eastward  to  the  mountain  barrier. 

The  water  of  the  Tigris,  in  its  lower  course,  is  yellowish, 
and  is  regarded  as  unwholesome.  The  stream  abounds 
with  fish  of  many  kinds,  which  are  often  of  a  large  size. 
Abundant  water- fowl  float  on  the  waters.  The  banks  are 
fringed  with  palm  trees  and  pomegranates,  or  clothed  with 
jungle  and  reeds,  the  haunt  of  the  wild-boar  and  the  lion. 


THE  OISE 

ROBERT   LOUIS   STEVENSON 

THE  river  was  swollen  with  the  long  rains.  From 
Vadencourt  all  the  way  to  Origny,  it  ran  with  ever 
quickening  speed,  taking  fresh  heart  at  each  mile,  and  rac- 
ing as  though  it  already  smelt  the  sea.  The  water  was  yel- 
low and  turbulent,  swung  with  an  angry  eddy  among  half- 
submerged  willows,  and  made  an  angry  clatter  along  stony 
shores.  The  course  kept  turning  and  turning  in  a  narrow 
and  well-timbered  valley.  Now,  the  river  would  approach 
the  side,  and  run  grinding  along  the  chalky  base  of  the  hill, 
and  show  us  a  few  open  colza  fields  among  the  trees. 
Now,  it  would  skirt  the  garden-walls  of  houses,  where  we 
might  catch  a  glimpse  through  a  doorway  and  see  a  priest 
pacing  in  the  chequered  sunlight.  Again  the  foliage  closed 
so  thickly  in  front,  that  there  seemed  to  be  no  issue  ;  only 
a  thicket  of  willows,  overtopped  by  elms  and  poplars,  under 
which  the  river  ran  flush  and  fleet,  and  where  a  kingfisher 
flew  past  like  a  piece  of  the  blue  sky.  On  these  different 
manifestations,  the  sun  poured  its  clear  and  catholic  looks. 
The  shadows  lay  as  solid  on  the  swift  surface  of  the  stream 
as  on  the  stable  meadows.  The  light  sparkled  golden  in 
the  dancing  poplar  leaves,  and  brought  the  hills  into  com- 
munion with  our  eyes.  And  all  the  while  the  river  never 
stopped  running  or  took  breath ;  and  the  reeds  along  the 
whole  valley  stood  shivering  from  top  to  toe. 

There  should  be  some  myth  (but  if  there  is,  I  know  it 


56  THE  OISE 

not)  founded  on  the  shivering  of  the  reeds.  There  are 
not  many  things  in  nature  more  striking  to  man's  eye.  It 
is  such  an  eloquent  pantomime  of  terror ;  and  to  see  such 
a  number  of  terrified  creatures  taking  sanctuary  in  every 
nook  along  the  shore,  is  enough  to  infect  a  silly  human 
with  alarm.  Perhaps  they  are  only  a-cold,  and  no 
wonder,  standing  waist  deep  in  the  stream.  Or  perhaps 
they  have  never  got  accustomed  to  the  speed  and  fury  of 
the  river's  flux,  or  the  miracle  of  its  continuous  body. 
Pan  once  played  upon  their  forefathers  ;  and  so,  by  the 
hands  of  the  river,  he  still  plays  upon  these  later  genera- 
tions down  all  the  valley  of  the  Oise ;  and  plays  the  same 
air,  both  sweet  and  shrill,  to  tell  us  of  the  beauty  and  the 
terror  of  the  world. 

The  canoe  was  like  a  leaf  in  the  current.  It  took  it  up 
and  shook  it  and  carried  it  masterfully  away,  like  a  Centaur 
carrying  ofF  a  nymph.  To  keep  some  command  on  our 
direction,  required  hard  and  diligent  plying  of  the  paddle. 
The  river  was  in  such  a  hurry  for  the  sea !  Every  drop 
of  water  ran  in  a  panic,  like  as  many  people  in  a  fright- 
ened crowd. 

There  was  never  any  mistake  about  the  Oise,  as  a 
matter  of  fact.  In  these  upper  reaches,  it  was  still  in  a 
prodigious  hurry  for  the  sea.  It  ran  so  fast  and  merrily, 
through  all  the  windings  of  its  channel  that  I  strained  my 
thumb,  fighting  with  the  rapids,  and  had  to  paddle  all  the 
rest  of  the  way  with  one  hand  turned  up.  Sometimes  it 
had  to  serve  mills ;  and  being  still  a  little  river,  ran  very 
dry  and  shallow  in  the  meanwhile.  We  had  to  put  our 
legs  out  of  the  boat,  and  shove  ourselves  off*  the  sand  of 
the  bottom  with  our  feet.  And  still  it  went  on  its  way 
singing  among  the  poplars  and  making  a  green  valley  in 


THE  OISE  57 

the  world.  After  a  good  woman  and  a  good  book,  and 
tobacco,  there  is  nothing  so  agreeable  on  earth  as  a  river. 
I  forgave  it  its  attempt  on  my  life  j  which  was  after  all 
one  part  owing  to  the  unruly  winds  of  heaven  that  had 
blown  down  the  tree,  one  part  to  my  own  mismanage- 
ment, and  only  a  third  part  to  the  river  itself,  and  that 
not  out  of  malice,  but  from  its  great  preoccupation  over 
its  business  of  getting  to  the  sea.  A  difficult  business, 
too  j  for  the  detours  it  had  to  make  are  not  to  be  counted. 
The  geographers  seem  to  have  given  up  the  attempt  j  for 
I  found  no  map  representing  the  infinite  contortion  of  its 
course.  A  fact  will  say  more  than  any  of  them.  After 
we  had  been  some  hours,  three  if  I  mistake  not,  flitting  by 
the  trees  at  this  smooth,  breakneck  gallop,  when  we  came 
upon  a  hamlet  and  asked  where  we  were,  we  had  got  no 
farther  than  four  kilometres  (say  two  miles  and  a  half) 
from  Origny.  If  it  were  not  for  the  honour  of  the  thing 
(in  the  Scotch  saying),  we  might  almost  as  well  have  been 
standing  still. 

Moy  (pronounce  Moy)  was  a  pleasant  little  village 
gathered  round  a  chateau  with  a  moat.  The  air  was 
perfumed  with  hemp  from  neighbouring  fields.  At  the 
Golden  Sheep  we  found  excellent  entertainment.  German 
shells  from  the  siege  of  La  Fere,  Niirnberg  figures,  gold 
fish  in  a  bowl,  and  all  manner  of  knick-knacks  embellished 
the  public  room.  The  landlady  was  a  stout,  plain,  short- 
sighted, motherly  body,  with  something  not  far  short  of 
a  genius  for  cookery.  .  .  .  We  made  a  very  short 
day  of  it  to  La  Fere ;  but  the  dusk  was  falling  and  a  small 
rain  had  begun  before  we  stowed  the  boats.  .  .  . 

Below  La  Fere  the  river  runs  through  a  piece  of  open 
pastoral  country  ;  green,  opulent,  loved  by  breeders;  called 


58  THE  OISE 

the  Golden  Valley.  In  wide  sweeps,  and  with  a  swift 
and  equable  gallop,  the  ceaseless  stream  of  water  visits 
and  makes  green  the  fields.  Kine  and  horses,  and  little 
humorous  donkeys  browse  together  in  the  meadows,  and 
come  down  in  troops  to  the  riverside  to  drink.  They 
make  a  strange  feature  in  the  landscape;  above  all  when 
startled,  and  you  can  see  them  galloping  to  and  fro,  with 
their  incongruous  forms  and  faces.  It  gives  a  feeling  as 
of  great  unfenced  pampas  and  the  herds  of  wandering 
nations.  There  were  hills  in  the  distance  upon  either 
hand ;  and  on  one  side  the  river  sometimes  bordered  on 
the  wooded  spurs  of  Coucy  and  St.  Gobain.  .  .  . 

All  the  time,  the  river  stole  away  like  a  thief  in  straight 
places,  or  swung  round  corners  with  an  eddy,  the  willows 
nodded  and  were  undermined  all  day  long ;  the  clay  banks 
tumbled  in  ;  the  Oise,  which  had  been  so  many  centuries 
making  the  Golden  Valley,  seemed  to  have  changed  its 
fancy,  and  be  bent  upon  undoing  its  performance.  What  a 
number  of  things  a  river  does,  by  simply  following  Gravity 
in  the  innocence  of  its  heart ! 

Noyon  stands  about  a  mile  from  the  river,  in  a  little 
plain  surrounded  by  wooded  hills,  and  entirely  covers  an 
eminence  with  its  tile  roofs  surmounted  by  a  long,  straight- 
backed  cathedral  with  two  stiff  towers.  As  we  got  into 
the  town,  the  tile  roofs  seemed  to  tumble  up  hill  one  upon 
another,  in  the  oddest  disorder ;  but  for  all  their  scramb- 
ling, they  did  not  attain  above  the  knees  of  the  cathedral, 
which  stood  upright  and  solemn,  over  all.  As  the  streets 
drew  near  to  this  presiding  genius,  through  the  market- 
place under  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  they  grew  emptier  and 
more  composed.  Blank  walls  and  shuttered  windows  were 
turned  to  the  great  edifice  and  grass  grew  on  the  white 


THE  OISE  59 

causeway.  u  Put  off  thy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet  for  the 
place  whereon  thou  standest  is  holy  ground."  The  Hotel 
du  Nord,  nevertheless,  lights  its  secular  tapers  within  a 
stone  cast  of  the  church,  and  we  had  the  superb  east  end 
before  our  eyes  all  morning  from  the  window  of  our  bed- 
room. .  .  . 

The  most  patient  people  grow  weary  at  last  with  being 
continually  wetted  with  rain ;  except  of  course  in  the 
Scotch  Highlands,  where  there  are  not  enough  fine  inter- 
vals to  point  the  difference.  That  was  like  to  be  our 
case  the  day  we  left  Noyon.  I  remember  nothing  of  the 
voyage;  it  was  nothing  but  clay  banks  and  willows  and 
rain  ;  incessant,  pitiless,  beating  rain  ;  until  we  stopped  to 
lunch  at  a  little  inn  in  Pimprez,  where  the  canal  ran  very 
near  the  river.  .  .  .  That  was  our  last  wetting.  The 
afternoon  faired  up  :  grand  clouds  still  voyaged  in  the  sky, 
but  now  singly  and  with  a  depth  of  blue  around  their  path  ; 
and  a  sunset,  in  the  daintiest  rose  and  gold,  inaugurated  a 
thick  night  of  stars  and  a  month  of  unbroken  weather.  At 
the  same  time,  the  river  began  to  give  us  a  better  outlook 
into  the  country.  The  banks  were  not  so  high,  the 
willows  disappeared  from  along  the  margin,  and  pleasant 
hills  stood  all  along  its  course  and  marked  their  profile  on 
the  sky. 

In  a  little  while,  the  canal,  coming  to  its  last  lock,  began 
to  discharge  its  water-houses  on  the  Oise  ;  so  that  we  had 
no  lack  of  company  to  fear.  Here  were  all  our  old  friends  ; 
the  Deo  Gratias  of  Conde  and  the  Four  Sons  of  Aymon 
journeyed  cheerily  down  stream  along  with  us ;  we  ex- 
changed waterside  pleasantries  with  the  steersman  perched 
among  the  lumber,  or  the  driver  hoarse  with  bawling  to  his 
horses ;  and  the  children  came  and  looked  over  the  side  as 


60  THE  OISE 

we  paddled  by.  We  had  never  known  all  this  while  how 
much  we  missed  them  j  but  it  gave  us  a  fillip  to  see  the 
smoke  from  their  chimneys. 

A  little  below  this  junction  we  made  another  meeting  of 
yet  more  account.  For  there  we  were  joined  by  the  Aisne, 
already  a  far  travelled  river  and  fresh  out  of  Campagne. 
Here  ended  the  adolescence  of  the  Oise ;  this  was  his  mar- 
riage day  ;  thenceforward  he  had  a  stately,  brimming  march, 
conscious  of  his  own  dignity  and  sundry  dams.  He  be- 
came a  tranquil  feature  in  the  scene.  The  trees  and  towns 
saw  themselves  in  him,  as  in  a  mirror.  He  carried  the 
canoes  lightly  on  his  broad  breast ;  there  was  no  need  to 
work  hard  against  an  eddy  :  but  idleness  became  the  order 
of  the  day,  and  mere  straightforward  dipping  of  the  paddle, 
now  on  this  side,  now  on  that,  without  intelligence  or  effort. 
Truly  we  were  coming  into  halcyon  weather  upon  all  ac- 
counts, and  were  floated  towards  the  sea  like  gentlemen. 

We  made  Compiegne  as  the  sun  was  going  down  :  a  fine 
profile  of  a  town  above  the  river.  Over  the  bridge,  a  regi- 
ment was  parading  to  the  drum.  People  loitered  on  the 
quay,  some  fishing,  some  looking  idly  at  the  stream.  And 
as  the  two  boats  shot  in  along  the  water,  we  could  see  them 
pointing  them  out  and  speaking  one  to  another.  We 
landed  at  a  floating  lavatory,  where  the  washerwomen  were 
still  beating  the  clothes. 

We  put  up  at  a  big,  bustling  hotel  in  Compiegne,  where 
nobody  observed  our  presence.  .  .  .  It  is  not  possible 
to  rise  before  a  village ;  but  Compiegne  was  so  grown  a  town 
that  it  took  its  ease  in  the  morning ;  and  we  were  up  and 
away  while  it  was  still  in  dressing-gown  and  slippers.  The 
streets  were  left  to  people  washing  door-steps ;  nobody  was 
in  full  dress  but  the  cavaliers  upon  the  town-hall ;  they  were 


THE  OISE  6 1 

all  washed  with  dew,  spruce  in  their  gilding  and  full  of  in- 
telligence and  a  sense  of  professional  responsibility.  Kling, 
went  they  on  the  bells  for  the  half-past  six,  as  we  went  by. 
I  took  it  kind  of  them  to  make  me  this  parting  compliment  j 
they  never  were  in  better  form,  not  even  at  noon  upon  a 
Sunday. 

There  was  no  one  to  see  us  off  but  the  early  washer- 
women— early  and  late — who  were  already  beating  the  linen 
in  their  floating  lavatory  on  the  river.  They  were  very 
merry  and  matutinal  in  their  ways ;  plunged  their  arms 
boldly  in  and  seemed  not  to  feel  the  shock.  It  would  be 
dispiriting  to  me,  this  early  beginning  and  first  cold  dabble, 
of  a  most  dispiriting  day's  work.  But  I  believe  they  would 
have  been  as  unwilling  to  change  days  with  us,  as  we  could 
be  to  change  with  them.  They  crowded  to  the  door  to 
watch  us  paddle  away  into  the  thin  sunny  mists  upon  the 
river ;  and  shouted  heartily  after  us  till  we  were  through  the 
bridge. 

There  is  a  sense  in  which  those  mists  never  rose  from  ofF 
our  journey ;  and  from  that  time  forth  they  lie  very  densely 
in  my  note-book.  As  long  as  the  Oise  was  a  small  rural 
river,  it  took  us  near  by  people's  doors  and  we  could  hold 
a  conversation  with  natives  in  the  riparian  fields.  But  now 
that  it  had  gone  so  wide,  the  life  along  shore  passed  us  by 
at  a  distance.  It  was  the  same  difference  as  between  a 
great  public  highway  and  a  country  by-path  that  wanders  in 
and  out  of  cottage  gardens.  We  now  lay  in  towns,  where 
nobody  troubled  us  with  questions ;  we  had  floated  into 
civilized  life,  where  people  pass  without  salutation.  In 
sparsely  inhabited  places,  we  make  all  we  can  of  each  en- 
counter ;  but  when  it  comes  to  a  city,  we  keep  to  ourselves, 
and  never  speak  unless  we  have  trodden  on  a  man's  toes. 


62  THE  OISE 

In  these  waters,  we  were  no  longer  strange  birds,  and  no- 
body supposed  we  had  travelled  further  than  from  the  last 
town.  I  remember  when  we  came  into  L'  Isle  Adam,  for 
instance,  how  we  met  dozens  of  pleasure-boats,  outing  it  for 
the  afternoon,  and  there  was  nothing  to  distinguish  the  true 
voyager  from  the  amateur,  except,  perhaps,  the  filthy  con- 
dition of  my  sail.  The  company  in  one  boat  actually 
thought  they  recognized  me  for  a  neighbour.  Was  there 
ever  anything  more  wounding  ?  All  the  romance  had  come 
down  to  that.  Now,  on  the  upper  Oise,  where  nothing 
sailed  as  a  general  thing  but  fish,  a  pair  of  canoeists  could 
not  be  thus  vulgarly  explained  away  j  we  were  strange  and 
picturesque  intruders ;  and  out  of  people's  wonder  sprang 
a  sort  of  light  and  passing  intimacy  all  along  our 
route.  .  .  . 

In  our  earlier  adventures  there  was  generally  something 
to  do,  and  that  quickened  us.  Even  the  showers  of  rain 
had  a  revivifying  effect,  and  shook  up  the  brain  from  torpor. 
But  now,  when  the  river  no  longer  ran  in  a  proper  sense, 
only  glided  seaward  with  an  even,  outright,  but  impercep- 
tible speed,  and  when  the  sky  smiled  upon  us  day  after  day 
without  variety,  we  began  to  slip  into  that  golden  doze  of 
the  wind  which  follows  upon  much  exercise  in  the  open 
air.  I  have  stupefied  myself  in  this  way  more  than  once  ; 
indeed,  I  dearly  love  the  feeling ;  but  I  never  had  it  to  the 
same  degree  as  when  paddling  down  the  Oise.  It  was  the 
apotheosis  of  stupidity.  .  .  . 

We  made  our  first  stage  below  Compiegne  to  Pont 
Sainte  Maxence.  I  was  abroad  a  little  after  six  the  next 
morning.  The  air  was  biting  and  smelt  of  frost.  In  an 
open  place  a  score  of  women  wrangled  together  over  the 
day's  market;  and  the  noise  of  their  negotiation  sounded 


THE  OISE  63 

thin  and  querulous  like  that  of  sparrows  on  a  winter's  morn- 
ing. The  rare  passengers  blew  into  their  hands  and 
shuffled  in  their  wooden  shoes  to  set  the  blood  agog.  The 
streets  were  full  of  icy  shadow,  although  the  chimneys  were 
smoking  overhead  in  golden  sunshine.  If  you  wake  early 
enough  at  this  season  of  the  year,  you  may  get  up  in 
December  to  break  your  fast  in  June. 

At  Creil,  where  we  stopped  to  lunch,  we  left  the  canoes 
in  another  floating  lavatory,  which,  as  it  was  high  noon, 
was  packed  with  washerwomen,  red-handed  and  loud-voiced  j 
and  they  and  their  broad  jokes  are  about  all  I  remember  of 
the  place.  .  .  .  The  church  at  Creil  was  a  nondescript 
place  in  the  inside,  splashed  with  gaudy  lights  from  the 
windows  and  picked  out  with  medallions  of  the  Dolorous 
Way.  But  there  was  one  oddity,  in  the  way  of  an  ex  voto, 
which  pleased  me  hugely  :  a  faithful  model  of  a  canal  boat, 
swung  from  the  vault,  with  a  written  aspiration  that  God 
should  conduct  the  Saint  Nicholas  of  Creil  to  a  good  haven. 

We  made  Precy  about  sundown.  The  plain  is  rich  with 
tufts  of  poplar.  In  a  wide,  luminous  curve,  the  Oise  lay 
under  the  hillside.  A  faint  mist  began  to  rise  and  con- 
found the  different  distances  together.  There  was  not  a 
sound  audible  but  that  of  the  sheep-bells  in  some  meadows 
by  the  river  and  the  creaking  of  a  cart  down  the  long  road 
that  descends  the  hill.  The  villas  in  their  gardens,  the 
shops  along  the  street,  all  seemed  to  have  been  deserted  the 
day  before ;  and  I  felt  inclined  to  walk  discreetly  as  one 
•feels  in  a  silent  forest. 

Of  the  next  two  days'  sail  little  remains  in  my  mind,  and 
nothing  whatever  in  my  note-book.  The  river  streamed 
on  steadily  through  pleasant  riverside  landscapes.  Washer- 
women in  blue  dresses,  fishers  in  blue  blouses,  diversified 


64  THE  OISE 

the  green  banks  j  and  the  relation  of  the  two  colours  was 
like  that  of  the  flower  and  leaf  in  the  forget-me-not.  A 
symphony  in  forget-me-not ;  I  think  Theophile  Gautier 
might  thus  have  characterized  that  two  days'  panorama. 
The  sky  was  blue  and  cloudless ;  and  the  sliding  surface  of 
the  river  held  up,  in  smooth  places,  a  mirror  to  the  heaven 
and  the  shores.  The  washerwomen  hailed  us  laughingly 
and  the  noise  of  trees  and  water  made  an  accompaniment  to 
our  dozing  thoughts,  as  we  fleeted  down  the  stream. 

The  great  volume,  the  indefatigable  purpose  of  the  river 
held  the  mind  in  chain.  It  seemed  now  so  sure  of  its  end, 
so  strong  and  easy  in  its  gait,  like  a  grown  man  full  of 
determination.  The  surf  was  roaring  for  it  on  the  sands  of 
Havre. 


THE  HUDSON 

ESTHER  SINGLETON 

THE  Hudson  is  considered  the  most  beautiful  river  of 
the  United  States.  Its  scenery  is  so  enchanting 
that  it  has  been  called  the  "  Rhine  of  America."  Its  hills 
and  banks  are  dotted  with  palatial'residences.  To  the  his- 
torian they  are  eloquent  of  the  brave  generals  and  their 
armies  who  fought  for  Liberty  and  they  charm  the  dreamer 
by  the  legends  that  cluster  around  them.  It  is  no  trouble 
for  him  to  see  the  Phantom  Ship  scudding  across  the  Tap- 
pan  Zee,  or  to  people  Sleepy  Hollow  with  vanished  forms. 

George  William  Curtis  pronounced  the  Rhine  of 
America  even  grander  than  the  Rhine.  He  says:  "The 
Danube  has  in  part  glimpses  of  such  grandeur.  The  Elbe 
has  sometimes  such  delicately  pencilled  effects.  But  no 
European  river  is  so  lordly  in  its  bearing,  none  flows  in 
such  state  to  the  sea." 

The  Hudson's  course  of  three  hundred  miles  told  briefly 
is  as  follows  : 

It  rises  in  the  Adirondacks  about  4,000  feet  above  the 
sea,  where  innumerable  little  streams  fed  by  mountain 
lakes  unite  to  form  the  headwaters  of  the  noble  river 
that  begins  a  tortuous  course  and  receives  the  outlet  of 
Schroon  Lake  and  the  Sacondaga  River.  Turning  to  the 
east,  it  finally  reaches  Glen's  Falls,  where  it  drops  fifty 
feet.  From  thence  to  Troy,  it  is  much  broken  by  rapids, 
and  it  is  not  until  it  reaches  Albany,  six  miles  below  Troy, 


66  THE  HUDSON 

that  the  Hudson  becomes  wide  and  flows  through  elevated 
and  picturesque  banks.  Then,  in  its  journey,  it  passes  by 
the  Catskills,  or  as  the  Indians  called  them — the  Ontioras 
(Mountains  of  the  Sky)  which  are  but  seven  miles  from  its 
banks.  A  short  distance  below  Newburg,  sixty-one  miles 
from  New  York,  it  begins  its  passage  through  the  noble 
hills  called  The  Highlands,  an  area  of  about  sixteen  by 
twenty-five  miles.  In  the  midst  of  this  beautiful  scenery 
on  a  bold  promontory  stands  the  United  States  Military 
Academy  at  West  Point.  The  river  then  widens  into 
Haverstraw  Bay,  immediately  below  which  is  Tappan  Zee, 
extending  from  Teller's  Point  to  Piermont,  twelve  miles 
long  and  from  three  to  four  miles  wide.  Just  below  Pier- 
mont, a  range  of  trap  rock — the  Palisades— extends  to  Fort 
Lee,  a  distance  of  about  fifteen  miles.  From  Fort  Lee  to 
its  mouth  the  Hudson  is  from  one  mile  to  two  miles  long. 
The  Hudson  has  been  called  Shatemuck,  the  Mohegan,  the 
Manhattan,  the  Mauritius  (in  honour  of  Prince  Maurice  of 
Nassau)  the  Noordt  Montaigne,  the  North  River  (to  dis- 
tinguish it  from  the  Delaware  or  South  River)  the  River  of 
the  Mountains,  and,  finally,  the  Hudson  in  honour  of  its 
discoverer. 

Although  Verrazano  practically  discovered  this  river  in 
1524,  its  first  navigator  was  Henry  Hudson  who  in  the 
service  of  the  Dutch  West  India  Company  on  his  voyage 
in  the  Half  Moon  passed  through  the  Narrows  in  1609, 
entered  New  York  Bay  and  sailed  up  the  Mohegan  River 
as  far  as  Albany. 

The  Hudson  was  divided  by  the  old  navigators  into  four- 
teen reaches,  one  of  which,  Claverack  (Clover  Reach),  has 
survived.  First  came  the  Great  Chip-Rock  Reach  (the 
Palisades) ;  then  the  Tappan  Reach  where  dwelt  the  Man- 


THE  HUDSON  67 

hattans,  the  Saulrickans  and  the  Tappans ;  the  next  reach 
ended  at  Haverstrooj  following  came  Seylmaker's  Reach, 
Crescent  Reach,  Hoges  Reach  and  Vorsen  Reach  which 
extended  to  Klinkersberg  (Storm  King).  Fisher's  Reach, 
Claverack,  Backerack,  Playsier  and  Vaste  Reach  as  far  as 
Hinnenhock;  then  Hunter's  Reach  to  Kinderhook ;  and 
Fisher's  Hook  near  Shad  Island,  where  dwelt  the  Mohe- 
gans. 

No  river  in  America  presents  so  animated  a  scene  as  the 
Hudson  from  the  Battery  to  the  beginning  of  the  Palisades. 
Ocean  steamers,  ferry-boats,  excursion  boats,  private  yachts, 
and  craft  of  all  sizes  and  kinds  sail  or  steam  down  the  nar- 
row channel  or  cross  between  the  shores  of  Manhattan  and 
New  Jersey.  The  river  is  always  gay  and  beautiful  in 
sunshine  and  fog,  winter  and  summer. 

On  ascending  the  river,  the  first  point  of  interest  is 
Weehawken,  on  the  west,  where,  on  a  narrow  ledge  of 
rock,  Aaron  Burr  killed  Alexander  Hamilton  in  a  duel, 
July  n,  1804.  Next,  and  on  the  eastern  shore,  is  Spuyten 
Duyvel  Creek,  associated  with  the  earliest  history  of  the 
river.  This  is  a  narrow  stream  formed  by  the  in-flowing  tide- 
water of  the  Hudson  and  joining  at  Kingsbridge  with  the 
so-called  Harlem  River,  which  is  a  similar  in-flowing  of  the 
tide-water  of  Long  Island  Sound.  Here  a  bridge  was  built 
in  1693  >  and  nerej  on  tne  2d  of  October,  Henry  Hudson 
had  a  severe  fight  with  the  Indians  who  attacked  the  Half 
Moon.  The  origin  of  the  name  is  unknown  j  but  Irving's 
legend  clings  to  the  spot  as  a  limpet  to  a  rock.  He  tells 
the  story  that  the  trumpeter,  Antony  van  Corlear,  was  dis- 
patched one  evening  on  a  message  up  the  Hudson.  When 
he  arrived  at  this  creek,  the  wind  was  high,  the  elements 
were  in  an  uproar,  and  no  boatman  was  at  hand.  He  de- 


68  THE  HUDSON 

clared  he  would  swim  across  en  spijt  en  Duyvel  (in  spite  of 
the  Devil),  but  was  drowned  on  the  way. 

Yonkers  is  the  next  point  of  interest  on  this  side  of  the 
river,  supposed  to  have  derived  its  name  from  yonk-herr, 
the  young  heir.  After  passing  Hastings  and  Dobbs  Ferry 
(named  after  an  old  ferryman),  the  river  widens  into  a 
beautiful  bay.  Across  the  river,  opposite  Spuyten  Duyvel, 
is  Fort  Lee,  from  which  Washington  watched  the  battle 
that  resulted  in  the  loss  of  Fort  Washington.  From  this 
point  the  Palisades  begin.  This  range  of  rocks  is  from  two 
hundred  and  fifty  to  six  hundred  feet  high  and  extends 
about  fifteen  miles  from  Fort  Lee  to  the  hills  of  Rockland 
County. 

Opposite  Dobbs  Ferry,  the  northern  boundary  line  of 
New  Jersey  strikes  the  Hudson  ;  and  from  this  point  north 
the  river  runs  solely  through  the  state  of  New  York.  At 
this  point  is  Piermont ;  and  near  it  Tappan,  where  Andre 
was  hanged.  Directly  opposite  Piermont  is  Irvington, 
twenty-four  miles  from  New  York,  where  close  to  the 
water's  edge  stands  Sunnyside,  the  charming  home  of  Wash- 
ington Irving,  "  made  up  of  gable-ends  and  full  of  angles 
and  corners  as  an  old  cocked  hat,"  to  quote  the  description 
of  the  author,  who  bought  and  beautified  an  old  Dutch 
dwelling  called  Wolferfs  Roost. 

Three  miles  north  is  Tarrytown,  a  name  derived  from 
the  Dutch  Tarwen-Dorp,  or  wheat  town,  and  not,  as 
Diedrich  Knickerbocker  said,  because  husbands  would 
tarry  at  the  village  tavern.  A  mile  north  of  Tarrytown  is 
the  romantic  Sleepy  Hollow,  where  still  stands  the  old 
Dutch  Church.  Six  miles  above  Tarrytown  and  Sing  Sing, 
now  called  by  its  original  name,  Ossin  (a  stone)  and  ing  (a 
place)  is  reached.  The  name  is  derived  from  the  rocky 


THE  HUDSON  69 

and  stony  character  of  the  bank.  Here  the  State  Prison  is 
situated. 

Rockland  and  the  old  "  tedious  spot " — Verdietege  Hook 
— of  the  old  Dutch  sailors  are  opposite,  and  a  little  above 
the  latter,  Diedrich  Hook,  or  Point  No  Point.  Croton 
River  meets  the  Hudson  about  a  mile  above  Sing  Sing  and 
forms  Croton  Bay.  Croton  Point,  on  which  the  Van  Cort- 
landt  Manor  House  stands,  juts  out  here  and  separates 
Tappan  Zee  from  Haverstraw  Bay,  and  at  the  end  of 
which,  once  called  Teller's  Point,  a  great  Indian  battle  is 
said  to  have  taken  place.  The  spot  is  haunted  by  the 
ghosts  of  warriors  and  sachems.  Three  miles  more,  and 
we  reach  Stony  Point  on  the  west ;  and,  passing  Verplanck's 
Point  on  the  east,  come  to  Peekskill,  where  Nathan  Palmer, 
the  spy,  was  hanged.  This  was  also  the  headquarters  of 
General  Israel  Putnam. 

Turning  Kidd's  Point,  or  Caldwell's  landing,  with  Peek- 
skill  opposite,  we  pass  through  the  "  Southern  Gate  of  the 
Highlands."  It  is  at  this  spot  that  Captain  Kidd's  ship  is 
supposed  to  have  been  scuttled.  Here  the  Dunderberg,  or 
Thunder  Mountain  rises  abruptly  from  the  river;  and, 
as  the  latter  turns  to  the  west  (now  called  for  a  brief  time 
The  Horse  Race),  another  bold  mass  of  rock,  Anthony's 
Nose  (1,228  feet),  looms  into  view. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  river  is  Fort  Montgomery 
Creek,  once  called  Poplopen's  Kill,  and  here  stood  Fort 
Montgomery  and  Fort  Clinton  on  either  side  of  the  mouth. 
From  Fort  Montgomery  to  Anthony's  Nose  a  chain  of 
iron  and  wood  was  stretched  across  the  river  during  the 
Revolutionary  War  to  prevent  the  passage  of  British  boats. 

Opposite  Anthony's  Nose  is  the  Island  of  lona ;  and  now 
we  see  the  Sugar  Loaf,  not  one  hill,  as  first  appears,  but  a 


70  THE  HUDSON 

series  of  hills.  At  the  foot  of  Sugar  Loaf  stood  Beverly 
House,  where  Arnold  lived  at  the  time  of  his  treason. 

Half  a  mile  below  West  Point,  on  the  west  side  of  the 
river,  a  small  stream,  rushing  down  the  rocky  precipice, 
forms  a  snowy  cascade,  known  as  Buttermilk  Falls. 

West  Point,  with  its  academy  buildings  and  parade 
ground  on  a  plateau  two  hundred  feet  above  the  river — the 
"  Gibraltar  of  the  Hudson  " — near  which  may  be  seen  the 
ruins  of  old  Fort  Putnam  on  Mount  Independence,  five 
hundred  feet  above  the  river,  takes  us  into  historic  ground 
and  beautiful  scenery.  We  pass  a  succession  of  lofty  hills 
on  the  same  side  of  the  river,  the  chief  of  which  is  Old 
Cro'  Nest  (1,418  feet).  Its  name  was  given  to  it  from  a 
circular  lake  on  the  summit  suggesting  a  nest  in  the  moun- 
tains ;  and  it  is  thus  described  by  Rodman  Drake,  in  the 
Culprit  Fay: 

"  'Tis  the  middle  watch  of  a  summer  night, 
The  earth  is  dark,  but  the  heavens  are  bright, 
The  moon  looks  down  on  Old  Cro'  Nest — 
She  mellows  the  shade  on  his  shaggy  breast, 
And  seems  his  huge  grey  form  to  throw 
In  a  silver  cone  on  the  wave  below." 

To  the  north  of  Cro'  Nest  comes  Storm  King,  the  highest 
peak  of  the  Highlands  (1,800  feet).  First  it  was  called 
Klinkersberg  and  then  Boterberg  (Butter  Hill)  and  renamed 
Storm  King  by  N.  P.  Willis.  Storm  King  with  Breakneck 
(1,187  feet),  on  the  opposite  side  form  the  "Northern 
Gate  of  the  Highlands."  The  river  here  is  deep  and 
narrow  as  it  cuts  its  way  through  what  is  practically  a 
gorge  in  the  Alleghany  Mountains. 

The  Highlands  now  trend  off  to  the  north-east  and  the 


THE  HUDSON  Jl 

New  Beacon  or  Grand  Sachem  Mountain  (1,685  ^eet)  an^ 
the  Old  Beacon  (1,471  feet).  The  names  are  explained  by 
the  fact  that  signal  fires  were  kindled  on  their  summits 
during  the  Revolution.  The  Indians  called  them  Mat- 
teawan  and  sometimes  referred  to  the  whole  range  of  High- 
lands as  Wequehachke  (Hill  Country).  They  also  believed 
that  the  great  Manito  confined  here  rebellious  spirits  whose 
groans  could  often  be  heard. 

On  the  west  shore  are  situated  the  towns  of  Cornwall  and 
Newburg,  where  Washington  had  his  headquarters  in  the 
old  Hasbrouck  House. 

Opposite  Newburg  is  Fishkill  Landing  and  above  New- 
burg  on  the  west  side  is  the  Devil's  Danskammer,  or 
Devil's  Dancing  Chamber,  where  the  Indians  celebrated 
their  religious  rites.  Several  villages  and  towns  are  passed 
on  both  sides  of  the  river. 

One  spot  of  romantic  interest  on  the  west  shore  is  Blue 
Point,  where  on  moonlight  nights  a  phantom  ship  is  often 
seen  at  anchor  beneath  the  bluff.  It  is  supposed  to  be  the 
Half  Moon,  which  one  day  passed  the  Battery  and  sailed 
up  the  river  without  paying  the  slightest  heed  to  signals. 
The  u  Storm  Ship,"  as  she  is  called,  is  often  seen  in  bad 
weather  in  the  Tappan  Zee  and  in  Haverstraw  Bay  ;  but 
more  frequently  she  appears  at  rest  beneath  the  shadow  of 
Blue  Point. 

Across  the  river  is  Poughkeepsie,  so  called  from  the 
Indian  word  Apokeepsing,  meaning  safe  harbour.  At  this 
point  is  the  only  bridge  that  crosses  the  river  between  New 
York  and  Albany. 

Six  miles  above  Poughkeepsie,  the  river  makes  a  sudden 
turn.  The  Dutch  called  this  point  Krom  Elleboge 
(Crooked  Elbow),  now  Crum  Elbow.  Ten  miles  further 


7i  THE  HUDSON 

is  Rhinebeck  Landing,  the  approach  to  the  old  Dutch 
village  of  Rhinebeck,  founded  by  \Villiam  Beckman  in 
1647.  On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  are  Rondout  and 
Kingston  on  Esopus  Creek,  which  flows  north  and  joins 
the  Hudson  at  Saugerties. 

North  of  Rhinebeck  comes  Lower  Red  Hook  Landing 
or  Barrytown,  North  Bay  where  the  Clermont  was  built  by 
Robert  Fulton,  and  then  Tivoli. 

The  next  point  of  interest  on  the  west  side  is  Catskill 
Landing,  just  above  the  mouth  of  the  Kaaterskill  Creek. 
On  the  east  bank  is  the  city  of  Hudson ;  on  the  west  bank 
Athens.  Nearly  opposite  Four  Mile  Point  Lighthouse  is 
Kinderhook  River  or  Creek  on  whose  banks  Martin  Van 
Buren  lived.  Opposite  Kinderhook  is  Coxsackie  and 
above  this  New  Baltimore  and  Coeymans.  On  the  eastern 
bank  are  Schodack  Landing,  Castleton  and  Greenbush  or 
East  Albany.  A  bridge  leads  across  to  Albany  on  the  west 
bank  of  the  river.  Six  miles  above  Albany  is  the  city  of 
Troy,  on  the  east  bank.  Above  Cohoes  on  the  west  bank 
the  Hudson  receives  the  Mohawk,  its  largest  tributary  (150 
miles  long).  Above  Troy  navigation  is  interrupted  by 
many  rapids  and  falls. 

During  the  winter  the  river  constantly  freezes  and  it  is 
not  uncommon  in  the  upper  reaches  to  see  skaters  and 
sleighs  crossing  the  ice.  The  breaking  up  of  the  ice  is  a 
marvellous  spectacle. 

In  her  Memoirs  of  an  American  Lady,  Mrs.  Grant  of 
Laggan  has  vividly  described  this  "  sublime  spectacle." 
She  notes  that  the  whole  population  of  Albany  was  down 
at  the  riverside  in  a  moment  when  the  first  sound  was  heard 
like  a  u  loud  and  long  peal  of  thunder."  She  writes  : 

"  The  ice,  which  had  been  all  winter  very  thick,  instead 


THE  HUDSON  73 

of  diminishing,  as  might  be  expected  in  spring,  still  in- 
creased, as  the  sunshine  came,  and  the  days  lengthened. 
Much  snow  fell  in  February,  which,  melted  by  the  heat  of 
the  sun,  was  stagnant  for  a  day  on  the  surface  of  the  ice, 
and  then  by  the  night  frosts,  which  were  still  severe,  was 
added,  as  a  new  accession  to  the  thickness  of  it,  above  the 
former  surface.  This  was  so  often  repeated,  that,  in  some 
years,  the  ice  gained  two  feet  in  thickness,  after  the  heat  of 
the  sun  became  such  as  one  would  have  expected  should 
have  entirely  dissolved  it.  So  conscious  were  the  natives  of 
the  safety  this  accumulation  of  ice  afforded,  that  the  sledges 
continued  to  drive  on  the  ice  when  the  trees  were  budding, 
and  everything  looked  like  spring ;  nay,  when  there  was  so 
much  melted  on  the  surface  that  the  horses  were  knee-deep 
in  water  while  travelling  on  it,  and  portentous  cracks  on 
every  side  announced  the  approaching  rupture.  This  could 
scarce  have  been  produced  by  the  mere  influence  of  the  sun 
till  midsummer.  It  was  the  swelling  of  the  waters  under 
the  ice,  increased  by  rivulets,  enlarged  by  melted  snows, 
that  produced  this  catastrophe  ;  for  such  the  awful  concus- 
sion made  it  appear.  The  prelude  to  the  general  bursting 
of  this  mighty  mass,  was  a  fracture,  lengthways,  in  the 
middle  of  the  stream,  produced  by  the  effort  of  the  impris- 
oned waters,  now  increased  too  much  to  be  contained 
within  their  wonted  bounds.  Conceive  a  solid  mass,  from 
six  to  eight  feet  thick,  bursting  for  many  miles  in  one  con- 
tinued rupture,  produced  by  a  force  inconceivably  great, 
and,  in  a  manner,  inexpressibly  sudden.  Thunder  is  no 
adequate  image  of  this  awful  explosion,  which  roused  all  the 
sleepers,  within  reach  of  the  sound,  as  completely  as  the 
final  convulsion  of  nature,  and  the  solemn  peal  of  the  awak- 
ening trumpet  might  be  supposed  to  do.  The  stream  in 


74  THE  HUDSON 

summer  was  confined  by  a  pebbly  strand,  overhung  with 
high  and  steep  banks,  crowned  with  lofty  trees,  which  were 
considered  as  a  sacred  barrier  against  encroachments  of  this 
annual  visitation.  Never  dryads  dwelt  in  more  security 
than  those  of  the  vine-clad  elms,  that  extended  their  ample 
branches  over  this  mighty  stream.  Their  tangled  roots, 
laid  bare  by  the  impetuous  torrents,  formed  caverns  ever 
fresh  and  fragrant;  where  the  most  delicate  plants  flour- 
ished, unvisited  by  scorching  suns,  or  snipping  blasts;  and 
nothing  could  be  more  singular  than  the  variety  of  plants 
and  birds  that  were  sheltered  in  these  intricate  and  safe  re- 
cesses. But  when  the  bursting  of  the  crystal  surface  set 
loose  the  many  waters  that  had  rushed  down,  swollen  with 
the  annual  tribute  of  dissolving  snow,  the  islands  and  low- 
lands were  all  flooded  in  an  instant ;  and  the  lofty  banks, 
from  which  you  were  wont  to  overlook  the  stream,  were 
now  entirely  filled  by  an  impetuous  torrent,  bearing  down, 
with  incredible  and  tumultuous  rage,  immense  shoals  of  ice  ; 
which,  breaking  every  instant  by  the  concussion  of  others, 
jammed  together  in  some  places,  in  others  erecting  them- 
selves in  gigantic  heights  for  an  instant  in  the  air,  and  seem- 
ing to  combat  with  their  fellow-giants  crowding  on  in  all 
directions,  and  falling  together  with  an  inconceivable  crash, 
formed  a  terrible  moving-picture,  animated  and  various  be- 
yond conception ;  for  it  was  not  only  the  cerulean  ice, 
whose  broken  edges,  combating  with  the  stream,  refracted 
light  into  a  thousand  rainbows,  that  charmed  your  attention ; 
lofty  pines,  large  pieces  of  the  bank  torn  off  by  the  ice  with 
all  their  early  green  and  tender  foliage,  were  driven  on  like 
travelling  islands,  amid  this  battle  of  breakers,  for  such  it 
seemed.  I  am  absurdly  attempting  to  paint  a  scene,  under 
which  the  powers  of  language  sink." 


THE  HUDSON  75 

Since  the  days  of  the  old  Dutch  settlers  the  Hudson  has 
witnessed  all  the  triumphs  of  modern  ship-building  and 
navigation.  It  was  on  the  Hudson  that  Robert  Fulton 
made  his  first  experiments  in  steam  navigation  and  into  the 
Hudson  have  come  the  new  turbine  steamships  that  have 
crossed  the  Atlantic  in  five  days  ;  and  beneath  its  waters 
tunnels  have  lately  been  opened. 

Many  changes  have  taken  place  on  its  banks  since 
Washington  Irving  wrote :  "  I  thank  God  that  I  was 
born  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  I  fancy  I  can  trace 
much  of  what  is  good  and  pleasant  in  my  own  heterogeneous 
compound  to  my  early  companionship  with  this  glorious 
river.  In  the  warmth  of  youthful  enthusiasm,  I  used  to 
clothe  it  with  moral  attributes,  and,  as  it  were,  give  it  a 
soul.  I  delighted  in  its  frank,  bold,  honest  character ;  its 
noble  sincerity  and  perfect  truth.  Here  was  no  specious, 
smiling  surface,  covering  the  shifting  sand-bar  and  per- 
fidious rock,  but  a  stream  deep  as  it  was  broad  and  bearing 
with  honourable  faith  the  bark  that  trusted  to  its  waves.  I 
gloried  in  its  simple,  quiet,  majestic,  epic  flow,  ever  straight 
forward,  or,  if  forced  aside  for  once  by  opposing  mountains, 
struggling  bravely  through  them,  and  resuming  its  onward 
march.  Behold,  thought  I,  an  emblem  of  a  good  man's 
course  through  life,  ever  simple,  open  and  direct,  or  if, 
overpowered  by  adverse  circumstances,  he  deviate  into 
error,  it  is  but  momentary ;  he  soon  resumes  his  onward  and 
honourable  career,  and  continues  it  to  the  end  of  his  pil- 
grimage." 


THE  TIBER 

STROTHER  A.   SMITH 

THOUGH  the  Tiber  is  insignificant  in  size,  compared 
with  the  great  rivers  of  the  world,  it  is  one  of  the 
most  famous,  and  even  its  tributaries,  down  to  the  smallest 
brook,  have  some  historical  or  poetic  association  connected 
with  them,  or  exhibit  some  singular  natural  peculiarity. 
Its  stream  is  swelled  by  the  superfluous  waters  of  the 
historic  Thrasymene ;  its  affluents,  the  Velino  and  the 
Anio,  form  the  celebrated  Cascades  of  Terni  and  Tivoli ; 
the  Clitumnus  and  the  Nar  are  invested  with  poetic  interest 
by  the  verses  of  Virgil,  Ovid,  and  Silius  Italians ;  while 
the  Chiana  presents  the  singular  phenomenon  of  a  river 
which,  within  the  historic  period,  has  divided  itself  into 
two,  and  now  forms  a  connecting  link  between  the  Arno 
and  the  Tiber,  discharging  a  portion  of  its  waters  into 
each.  The  smaller  streams,  also,  the  Cremera,  the  Allia, 
and  the  Almo,  have  each  their  legend,  historical,  or 
mythological ;  while  the  rivulet  of  the  Aqua  Crabra,  or 
Marrana,  recalls  the  memory  of  Cicero  and  his  litigation 
with  the  company  which  supplied  his  establishment  at 
Tusculum  with  water  from  the  brook. 

The  Tiber  rises  nearly  due  east  of  Florence,  and  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  ridge  which  gives  birth  to  the 
Arno.  It  issues  in  a  copious  spring  of  limpid  water, 
which  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  has  force  enough  to  turn 


THE  TIBER  77 

a  mill.  If  we  are  to  believe  Bacci,  it  exhales  so  warm  a 
vapour  that  snow,  notwithstanding  the  elevation  of  the 
region,  will  not  lie  along  its  course  within  half  a  mile. 
For  a  distance  of  fifty-six  miles  it  flows  in  a  south-easterly 
direction  through  an  elevated  valley,  in  the  upper  part  of 
which  the  cold,  according  to  Pliny  the  younger,  who  had 
a  villa  there,  was  too  great  for  the  olive,  and  where  the 
snow  often  accumulates  to  a  considerable  depth.  Not  far 
from  Perugia  it  turns  to  the  south,  and  about  fourteen 
miles  lower  down  by  the  windings  of  the  stream,  receives 
its  first  affluent,  the  Chiascia,  which  brings  with  it  the 
Topino  (anciently  Tineas),  and  the  waters  of  the  classic 
Clitumnus,  known  to  the  readers  of  Virgil,  Propertius, 
and  Silius  Italicus  as  the  river  on  whose  banks  were  bred, 
and  in  whose  stream  were  washed,  "  the  milk-white  oxen 
which  drew  the  Roman  triumphs  to  the  temples  of  the 
gods,"  and  the  same  which  is  so  picturesquely  described  by 
the  younger  Pliny.  At  a  place  called  La  Vene,  one  of  the 
sources  of  the  Clitumnus  rises  at  the  foot  of  a  hill.  Like 
the  fountain  of  Vaucluse,  it  issues  a  small  river  from  the 
earth,  and  according  to  Pliny,  had  sufficient  depth  of  water 
to  float  a  boat.  It  is  clear  as  crystal,  delightfully  cool  in 
summer,  and  of  an  agreeable  warmth  in  winter.  Near  it 
stands  a  temple  once  sacred  to  the  river  god,  but  now 
surmounted  by  the  triumphant  cross.  It  seems  to  have 
been  a  favourite  place  of  resort  for  the  Romans,  as  far  as 
their  limited  means  of  locomotion  would  permit ;  since 
even  the  ferocious  Caligula,  as  Suetonius  tells  us,  attended 
by  his  body-guard  of  Batavians,  was  among  the  visitors 
to  these  celebrated  springs.  The  beauty  of  the  scenery 
appears  to  have  been  the  attraction ;  for  there  were  no 
mineral  sources,  and  a  refined  superstition  would  have 


78  THE  TIBER 

prevented  the  Romans  from  availing  themselves  of  the 
agreeable  temperature  of  the  water  to  indulge  in  the  luxury 
of  bathing,  rivers  near  their  sources  being  accounted 
sacred,  and  polluted  by  the  contact  of  a  naked  body.  Of 
all  the  misdeeds  of  Nero  none,  perhaps,  contributed  more 
to  his  unpopularity  than  his  swimming,  during  one  of  his 
drunken  frolics,  in  the  source  of  the  Aqua  Marcia,  the 
same  which  is  brought  by  the  aqueduct  to  Rome,  and 
which  rises  in  the  mountains  of  the  Abruzzi,  where  Nero 
was  staying  at  the  time. 

When  the  news  of  this  act  of  profanation  arrived  in  the 
city  it  created  a  great  sensation ;  and  an  illness  with  which 
he  was  shortly  afterwards  seized  was  attributed  to  the 
anger  of  the  god. 

Seven  miles  lower  down  on  the  right,  the  Tiber  receives 
the  Nestore,  a  large  and  impetuous  torrent,  or  torrentaccio^ 
as  it  is  called  by  the  Italians.  The  Nestore,  where  it 
enters  the  Tiber  flows  in  a  bed  of  sand  and  shingle  no  less 
than  a  third  of  a  Roman  mile  in  width,  and  after  heavy 
rains  must  bring  down  an  enormous  body  of  water.  Into 
the  Cina,  one  of  its  tributaries,  by  means  of  a  tunnel,  the 
overflow  of  the  lake  of  Thrasymene  is  discharged.  The 
emissary  originates  in  the  south-eastern  bay  of  the  lake, 
but  when,  or  by  whom,  the  work  was  executed  is  a  matter 
of  dispute.  Thirty  and  a  half  miles  further  on,  the  Tiber 
is  joined  by  the  Chiana  (anciently  Clanis),  which,  after 
uniting  with  the  Paglia,  flows  into  it  on  the  same  side  as 
the  Nestore  and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Orvieto. 

The  Paglia  rises  in  the  high  volcanic  mountain  of 
Monte  Amiata,  and  in  summer  is  nearly  dry ;  but  its 
broad  stony  channel  at  Acquapendente  shows  what  a  con- 
tribution it  must  bring  to  the  main  stream  in  time  of  floods. 


THE  TIBER  79 

The  Chiana,  which  from  the  black  and  muddy  colour  of  its 
waters  has  received  the  name  of  the  Lethe  of  Tuscany, 
but  which  might  with  more  propriety  be  called  the  Tuscan 
Cocytus,  was  once  a  single  stream  originating  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  Arezzo,  and  flowing  southward  into  the 
Tiber.  But  in  the  Middle  Ages  a  large  portion  of  the 
valley  in  which  it  flowed  was  filled  up  by  the  debris  which 
in  time  of  floods  was  brought  down  by  the  lateral  torrents. 
A  sort  of  plateau  was  thus  formed,  sloping  at  its  edges 
towards  the  valleys  of  the  Tiber  and  the  Arno.  The 
streams  which  entered  this  plateau  stagnated  in  the  level 
which  it  formed,  converting  it  into  an  unproductive  and 
unhealthy  marsh,  the  abode  of  malaria  and  the  pest-house 
of  Dante's  Purgatorio.  They  then  flowed  over  the  north- 
ern and  southern  edges  of  the  plateau,  and,  uniting  with 
others,  formed  two  distinct  rivers  called  the  Tuscan  and 
Roman  Chianas. 

The  torrent  of  the  Tresa,  rising  not  far  from  the  lake 
of  Thrasymene,  and  now  diverted  into  the  lake  of  Chiusi, 
may  be  considered  as  the  head  waters  of  the  Tuscan  Chiana, 
the  torrent  of  the  Astrone,  rising  in  the  direction  of  Monte- 
pulciano,  as  the  main  branch  of  the  Roman  Chiana.  The 
two  are  connected  by  canals  and  wet  ditches,  so  that  it  is 
conceivable  that  a  small  piece  of  wood  thrown  into  one  of 
these  might,  according  to  circumstances  and  the  direction 
of  the  wind,  find  its  way  to  Florence  or  to  Rome. 

The  district  which  I  have  described,  the  celebrated 
Val  di  Chiana,  is  now  one  of  the  most  productive  regions 
of  Italy,  green  with  vineyards  and  pastures,  and  golden 
with  waving  crops.  Nor  is  it  unhealthy,  except  in  the 
immediate  vicinity  of  the  lakes.  The  change  was  effected 
by  canalizing  the  streams,  and  by  the  process  called  warp- 


8o  THE  TIBER 

ing,  which  is  the  method  adopted  in  Lincolnshire  for  re- 
claiming land  from  the  sea.  A  certain  space  was  enclosed 
with  banks,  into  which  the  streams  were  diverted  when 
they  were  swollen  and  charged  with  mud.  The  opening 
was  then  closed  with  a  floodgate,  and  the  water  left  to  de- 
posit the  matter  which  it  held  in  suspension.  In  this  way 
an  inch  or  two  of  soil  was  gained  every  year,  until  the 
land  became  sufficiently  dry  and  firm.  It  was  then  sown 
with  crops,  and  planted  with  trees,  which  served  still 
further  to  purify  the  air  by  decomposing  with  their  leaves 
and  fixing  in  their  tissues  the  vapours  which  had  given  the 
Val  di  Chiana  so  deadly  a  name. 

Turning  again  to  the  south-east  and  at  a  distance  of 
136^  miles  from  its  source,  the  Tiber  is  swelled  by  the 
united  streams  of  the  Neva,  the  Velino,  and  the  Salto.  The 
Neva,  the  "  sulphured  Nar  albus  aqua"  of  Virgil,  and 
"  Narque  albescentibus  undis  "  of  Silius  Italicus,  rises  at  the 
foot  of  the  lofty  peak  of  Monte  Vettore,  part  of  the  Sibyl- 
line range,  and  is  the  tributary  which  is  most  affected  by 
the  melting  of  the  snows. 

The  Velino  also  has  its  source  in  the  great  central  chain 
of  the  Apennines,  and  after  being  joined  by  the  Salto  and 
Turano,  forms  the  cascade  of  Terni  by  dashing  over  the 
precipice  which  terminates  the  valley,  and  hastens  to  meet 
the  Neva.  The  Salto,  rising  in  the  kingdom  of  Naples, 
flows  northward  for  fifty  miles,  and  after  passing  beneath 
the  lofty  range  of  Monte  Velino,  and  receiving  a  contribu- 
tion from  its  snows,  mingles  its  waters  with  the  Velino. 
Swelled  by  these  tributaries  the  Neva  rolls  along  a  full  and 
rapid  stream,  and  sweeping  past  Terni  and  Narni,  loses 
itself  in  the  Tiber. 

About  sixty-four  miles  lower  down,  and  four  and  a  half 


THE  TIBER  8 1 

above  Rome  by  the  river,  the  Tiber  is  joined  by  the  Anio, 
or  Teverone,  the  most  important,  with  the  exception  of  the 
Neva,  of  all  its  tributaries.  No  river  is  better  known  than 
the  Anio.  The  scenery  of  its  valley,  the  classical  associa- 
tions of  its  neighbourhood,  and  the  celebrated  cascades  of 
Tivoli,  have  made  it  the  favourite  resort  of  tourists.  The 
Anio  rises  in  the  mountains  of  the  Hernici,  part  of  the 
modern  Abruzzi,  and  after  flowing  for  about  thirty-six 
miles  through  a  narrow  valley  whose  general  course  is  to  the 
west,  precipitates  itself  into  the  gorge  which  is  overlooked 
by  the  town  of  Tivoli ;  emerging  from  which  it  turns  west- 
south-west  and  joins  the  Tiber,  after  a  further  course  of 
twenty  miles.  Midway  between  its  source  and  Tivoli,  it 
passes  the  town  of  Subiaco,  anciently  Sublaqueum,  which 
derives  its  name  from  three  picturesque  lakes,  "  tres  lacus 
amcenitate  nobilis."  Tivoli  is  well  known  to  have  been  the 
favourite  retreat  of  the  wealthy  Romans  from  the  turmoil, 
and  what  Horace  calls  the  "  fumus,"  of  Rome.  The  names 
and  ruins  of  these  villas  yet  remain,  but  no  trace  is  left  of 
those  which  once  adorned  the  banks  of  the  Tiber,  and  per- 
haps of  the  Anio  in  the  lower  part  of  its  course. 

Pliny  the  younger  calls  the  Anio  "  delicatissimus  amnium" 
"  softest  and  gentlest  of  rivers  "  ;  and  adds  "  that  it  was 
for  this  reason  invited,  as  it  were,  and  retained  by  the 
neighbouring  villas "  for  their  own  exclusive  use.  Yet, 
this  "  delicate  river "  indulged  occasionally  in  the  wildest 
escapades,  and  Pliny  himself,  in  this  very  letter,  describes 
an  inundation  in  which  it  swept  away  woods,  undermined 
hills,  and  committed  extraordinary  havoc  among  the  neigh- 
bouring farms.  From  this  time  to  the  year  1826  it  was  a 
source  of  apprehension  to  the  people  of  Tivoli,  and  an 
anxiety  to  the  government  at  Rome,  which  expended  con- 


82  THE  TIBER 

siderable  sums  in  trying  to  prevent  some  great  calamity,  or 
in  repairing  the  damage  which  had  been  done.  Once  since 
the  time  of  Strabo  the  river  is  thought  to  have  changed  its 
course,  discharging  itself  at  a  lower  level  into  the  Grotto  of 
Neptune,  but  still  forming  a  lofty  and  picturesque  cascade. 

At  different  periods  it  had  destroyed  buildings,  under- 
mined the  foundation  of  others,  and  defied  every  effort  to 
control  its  violence.  At  length  these  floods  culminated  in 
the  great  inundation  of  1826,  which  entirely  altered  the 
character  of  the  cascade,  and  necessitated  the  formation  of 
the  tunnel  through  Monte  Catillo. 

The  work  was  let  on  contract  to  two  rival  firms,  and 
pushed  forward  with  such  vigour  that,  though  it  was  con- 
sidered a  most  arduous  undertaking  in  those  times,  it  was 
completed  in  1836,  during  the  Pontificate  of  Gregory  XVI. 

From  the  Anio,  or  its  tributaries,  was  drawn  the  water 
which  supplied  the  principal  aqueducts  of  Rome,  the  Anio 
Vetus,  the  Marcia,  the  Anio  Novus,  and  the  Claudia. 
When  the  original  Aqua  Appia  and  Anio  Vetus  were 
found  insufficient  for  the  increasing  wants  of  Rome,  it 
was  resolved  to  seek  for  a  fresh  supply.  This  was  found 
in  a  stream  of  limpid  water  rising  about  thirty-six  miles 
from  Rome  in  the  Marsian  Mountains,  and  flowing  into 
the  Anio.  As  the  water  of  the  Vetus  was  often  turbid 
after  rain,  and  even  the  Piscina,  or  reservoir,  through  which 
it  was  made  to  pass,  often  failed  to  purify  it,  Quintus 
Marcius  Rex,  who  was  appointed  to  superintend  the  work, 
was  desirous  that  the  water  of  the  new  aqueduct  should  be 
taken  from  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  river,  and  as  near 
as  possible  to  its  source. 

As  the  source  was  in  the  country  beyond  the  Anio,  the 
aqueduct  was  of  course  more  expensive  than  any  of  the 


THE  TIBER  83 

preceding  ones,  and  the  entire  length  of  it  was  no  less  than 
sixty-one  miles,  of  which  several  were  on  arches,  the  rest 
being  subterranean.  But,  if  the  expense  was  greater,  the 
quality  of  the  water  was  superior  to  that  of  any  other 
with  which  Rome  was  acquainted. 

The  aqueducts  of  the  Anio  Novus,  and  the  Aqua 
Claudia,  of  which  I  have  spoken,  were  completed  in  the 
reign  of  Claudius.  The  Aqua  Claudia,  which  came  from 
springs,  was  nearly  equal  in  quality  to  the  Marcia,  while 
the  two  Anios  were  often  turbid,  even  in  fine  weather, 
from  the  falling  in  of  their  banks.  But  Claudius  improved 
the  quality  of  the  Anio  Novus,  by  abandoning  the  river  at 
the  point  from  which  the  water  had  been  drawn,  and  taking 
it  from  a  lake,  out  of  which  the  stream  issues  limpid,  after 
having  deposited  the  greater  part  of  its  impurities. 

Altogether,  according  to  the  calculation  of  Fea,  half  the 
volume  of  Anio  was  abstracted  by  the  four  aqueducts 
which  have  been  mentioned. 

Four  tributaries  remain  to  be  described — the  Cremera, 
the  Allia,  the  Aqua  Crabra,  and  the  Almo — streams  insig- 
nificant in  size,  but  famous  in  the  annals  of  Rome,  or  pos- 
sessing an  interest  for  the  classical  scholar  and  the  archae- 
ologist. The  Cremera,  a  mere  brook,  over  which  an 
active  person  might  leap,  rises  in  the  little  lake  Baccano, 
and  flowing  past  the  site  of  Veii,  crosses  the  Flaminian  way 
about  six  miles  from  Rome. 

This  brook  must  not  be  confounded  with  another  a  little 
higher  up,  and  which  is  a  rivulet  unknown  to  fame.  The 
Cremera  is  associated,  as  every  student  of  Roman  history  is 
aware,  with  the  patriotic  devotion  of  the  Fabii. 

On  the  banks  of  the  Allia,  the  "flebilis  Allia  "  of  Ovid, 
a  still  smaller  stream,  though  dignified  by  the  historians 


84  THE  TIBER 

with  the  name  of  river,  was  fought  a  battle  with  the  Gauls, 
in  which  the  Romans  sustained  a  signal  defeat. 

The  Allia  cannot  be  identified  with  certainty,  but  it  is 
supposed  to  be  a  small  stream  flowing  in  a  deep  ravine, 
which  joins  the  Tiber  on  the  side  opposite  to  Veii,  and 
about  three  miles  above  Castel  Guibileo,  the  site  of  the 
ancient  Fidenae.  This  stream  agrees  with  the  description 
of  Livy. 

The  Aqua  Crabra  is  generally  known  by  the  name  of 
the  Marrana,  but  is  also  called  Aqua  Mariana,  and  Mar- 
rana  del  Maria ;  Marrana  being  a  name  frequently  given  to 
brooks  by  the  modern  Romans.  Thus  we  have  Marrana 
della  Caffarella,  another  name  for  the  Almone,  and  Marrana 
di  Grotta  perfetta.  The  rivulet  anciently  known  by  the 
name  of  the  Aqua  Crabra  rises  in  the  heart  of  the  Alban 
hills,  and  after  passing  beneath  the  heights  on  which  Tus- 
culum  and  Frascati  are  situated,  turned  northwards  in  obe- 
dience to  the  configuration  of  the  ground  and  flowed  into 
the  Anio.  But,  at  some  unknown  period  after  the  fall  of 
the  Roman  Empire,  it  was  diverted  by  means  of  a  tunnel 
into  the  channel  in  which  it  at  present  runs,  for  the  purpose 
of  turning  mills  and  irrigating  the  land.  The  little  stream, 
also,  which  flows  in  the  valley  between  Marino  and  the 
ridge  encircling  the  Alban  lake,  whose  source  is  considered 
by  some  to  be  the  Aqua  Ferentina  of  Livy,  is  conveyed 
through  a  similar  tunnel  to  swell  the  scanty  waters  of  the 
Aqua  Crabra.  In  ancient  times  this  rivulet  was  considered 
of  such  importance  to  the  people  of  Tusculum,  who  lived 
out  of  the  way  of  the  great  aqueducts,  that  Agrippa,  as 
Frontinus  tells  us,  consented  not  to  turn  it  into  the  "  caput," 
or  well  head,  of  the  Aqua  Julia,  as  he  had  originally  pro- 
posed. It  was  looked  upon  as  a  treasure  to  be  doled  out  in 


THE  TIBER  85 

measures  to  the  thirsty  people  of  Tusculum,  and  was  often 
contended  for  by  legal  proceedings.  Cicero,  in  his  Oration 
de  lege  Agraria,  ///,  2,  informs  us  that  he  paid  rates  to  the 
authorities  of  Tusculum  for  his  share  of  the  precious  fluid. 
And  in  his  Oration  pro  Balbo,  ch.  22,  he  refers  to  a  litigation 
with  the  municipality  which  furnished  the  water,  probably 
on  account  of  the  deficient  supply.  In  this  action  "  he  was 
in  the  habit,"  he  tells  us,  "  of  consulting  the  lawyer,  Tugio, 
on  account  of  his  long  experience  in  similar  cases."  Tugio 
seems  to  have  justified  his  choice,  and  to  have  frightened 
the  municipality  into  granting  a  more  abundant  supply,  for 
we  find  Cicero  in  his  letter  to  Tiro,  observing,  "  that  now 
there  was  more  water  than  enough."  "  I  should  like  to 
know,"  he  says,  "  how  the  business  of  the  Aqua  Crabra  is 
going  on,  though  now  indeed  there  is  more  water  than 
enough." 

The  Almo  is  the  stream  which  flows  in  the  valley  of 
Caffarella,  close  to  the  Nymphaeum,  which  does  duty  for 
the  grotto  of  Egeria.  Its  most  remote  source  is  about  six 
miles  from  Rome,  in  the  direction  of  Albano,  and  this  is 
usually  dry ;  so  that  the  Almo  is  with  great  propriety  called 
"  brevissimus"  in  comparison  with  the  other  rivers  which 
Ovid  is  enumerating.  The  perennial  source  is  at  Aqua 
Santa,  not  more  than  three  miles  from  the  city.  The 
stream  that  rises  in  the  valley  between  Marino  and  the  Al- 
ban  lake  is  represented  in  most  maps  as  flowing  into  the 
Almo.  It  is  really  diverted  by  a  tunnel  into  the  Aqua 
Crabra.  At  the  junction  of  the  Almo  with  the  Tiber  were 
washed  every  year,  the  statue  of  the  Goddess  Cybele,  her 
chariot  and  the  sacred  instruments  of  her  worship. 

Among  the  remaining  tributaries  of  the  Tiber  may  be 
enumerated  the  Farfarus,  which  is  a  torrent  joining  the 


86  THE  TIBER 

Tiber  a  little  above  Correse.  Also  the  little  stream,  the 
Aqua  Albana,  which  is  discharged  by  the  emissary  of 
the  Alban  Lake,  a  work  executed  393  years  before 
Christ. 


THE  SHANNON 

ARTHUR  SHADWELL  MARTIN 

THE  greatest  body  of  running  water  in  the  British  Isles 
has  long  claimed  and  received  the  love,  admiration 
and  praise  of  natives  and  foreigners.  Its  banks  are  fringed 
with  ruins  of  castles,  round  towers,  abbeys  and  churches,  and 
its  islands  and  hills  reek  with  historical  associations,  pagan 
folklore  and  mediaeval  tradition.  Steamers  now  run  prac- 
tically from  its  mouth  to  its  source,  and  to  the  tourist  all  its 
beauties  are  now  displayed.  The  enthusiasm  of  foreigners 
over  the  beautiful  stream  equals  that  of  Erin's  own  sons. 
Writing  in  1844,  Johann  Georg  Kohl  said  : 

"  Well  may  the  Irish  speak  of  the  '  Royal  Shannon,'  for 
he  is  the  king  of  all  their  rivers.  A  foreigner,  when  he 
thinks  of  some  of  our  large  continental  streams,  may  at  first 
consider  the  epithet  somewhat  of  an  exaggeration,  but  let 
him  go  down  this  glorious  river  and  its  lakes,  and  he  will 
be  at  no  loss  to  understand  that  royal  majesty,  in  the  matter 
of  rivers,  may  be  quite  independent  of  length  or  extent. 

"The  British  Islands  certainly  can  boast  of  no  second 
stream,  the  beauties  of  whose  banks  could  for  a  moment  be 
compared  to  those  of  the  Shannon. 

"  At  his  very  birth  he  is  broad  and  mighty,  for  he  starts  on 
his  course  strong  with  the  tribute  of  a  lake  (Lough  Allen), 
and  traverses  the  middle  of  Ireland,  in  a  direction  from 
north-east  to  south-west.  Thrice  again  he  widens  out  into 
a  lake  ;  first  into  the  little  Lough  Boffin,  then  into  the 


88  THE  SHANNON 

larger  Lough  Ree,  and  lastly,  when  he  has  got  more  than 
half  way  to  the  ocean,  into  the  yet  longer  Lough  Derg. 
Below  Limerick  he  opens  into  a  noble  estuary,  and  when 
at  length  he  falls  into  the  sea  between  Loop  Head  and 
Kerry  Head,  the  glorious  river  has  completed  a  course  of 
two  hundred  and  fourteen  English  miles.  The  greater  part 
of  the  Shannon  runs  through  the  central  plain  which 
separates  the  mountainous  north  from  the  mountainous 
south. 

"  It  was  on  a  beautiful  day  that  I  embarked  to  descend 
the  Shannon.  Flowing  out  of  a  lake,  and  forming  several 
other  lakes  in  its  progress,  the  water  is  extremely  clear  and 
beautiful.  The  movement  is  in  general  equable,  excepting 
a  few  rapids  which  are  avoided  by  means  of  canals.  The 
banks,  too,  are  pleasing  to  the  eye.  Large  green  meadows 
stretch  along  the  sides  of  the  river,  and  villages  alternate 
with  handsome  country  seats,  surrounded  by  their  parks. 
Herons  abound  along  the  margin,  and  many  of  these  beau- 
tiful birds  were  continually  wheeling  over  us  in  the  air, 
their  plumage  glittering  again  in  the  rays  of  the  sun. 

/'  We  arrived  at  Banagher.  Then  gliding  along  by  Red- 
wood Castle  and  the  beautiful  meadows  of  Portumna,  we 
left  the  town  of  Portumna  to  our  right,  and  entered  the 
waters  of  Lough  Derg.  The  steamer  in  which  we  had 
hitherto  travelled  was  of  small  dimensions,  with  a  wheel 
under  the  stern,  to  allow  of  its  passing  through  some  canals 
of  no  great  breadth  ;  but  on  the  broad  lake  a  new  and  larger 
vessel  prepared  to  receive  us.  The  two  steamers  came 
close  to  one  another,  to  exchange  their  respective  passen- 
gers, and  their  manoeuvre,  as  they  swept  round  on  the  wide 
water,  pleased  me  much. 

"  Of  the   lakes  that   like  so  many  rich  pearls  are  strung 


THE  SHANNON  89 

upon  the  silver  thread  of  the  Shannon,  Lough  Ree  and 
Lough  Bodarrig,  lying  in  a  level  country,  and  in  a  great 
measure  surrounded  by  bogs,  present  little  that  is  pleasing 
to  the  eye.  Lough  Allen  is  situated  almost  wholly  within 
the  mountainous  districts  of  the  north,  and  a  large  portion 
of  Lough  Derg  is  made  picturesque  by  the  mountains  of  the 
south.  Like  all  Irish  lakes,  Lough  Derg  contains  a  num- 
ber of  small  green  islands,  of  which  the  most  renowned  is 
Inniscaltra,  an  ancient  holy  place,  containing  the  ruins  of 
seven  venerable  churches  of  great  antiquity,  and  the  re- 
mains of  one  of  those  remarkable  columnal  erections  known 
in  Ireland  under  the  name  of  "  round  towers."  We  passed 
the  sacred  isle  at  the  distance  of  a  mile  and  a  half,  but  we 
could  very  distinctly  make  out  all  its  monuments  by  the  aid 
of  a  telescope." 

It  is  not  every  visitor  to  Shannon's  shores  that  has  un- 
qualified praise  for  the  scenery.  Thus  speaking  of  the 
sites  selected  by  the  saints  of  old  for  their  retreats,  Caesar 
Otway  exclaims :  "  What  a  dreary  place  is  Glendalough  ! 
what  a  lonely  isle  is  Inniscaltra !  what  a  hideous  place 
is  Patrick's  Purgatory !  what  a  desolate  spot  is  Clon- 
macnoise!  From  the  hill  of  Bentullagh  on  which  we 
now  stood,  the  numerous  churches,  the  two  round  towers, 
the  curiously  overhanging  bastion  of  O'Melaghlin's 
Castle,  all  before  us  to  the  south,  and  rising  in  relief  from 
the  dreary  sameness  of  the  surrounding  red  bogs,  pre- 
sented such  a  picture  of  tottering  ruins  and  encompassing 
desolation  as  I  am  sure  few  places  in  Europe  could  paral- 
lel." 

The  traveller  who  wants  to  see  the  most  accessible 
beauties  of  the  Shannon  usually  starts  at  Limerick  and 
leaves  the  river  at  Athlone,  though  some  go  as  far  as  Car- 


90  THE  SHANNON 

rick  on  Shannon.  The  chief  loughs  traversed  are  Derg 
and  Ree;  and  the  only  towns  of  any  importance  are  Killa- 
loe, Portumna  and  Athlone. 

About  eight  miles  above  Limerick  are  the  Rapids  or  Falls 
of  Doonass,  where  the  Shannon  pours  an  immense  body  of 
water,  which  above  the  rapids  is  forty  feet  deep  and  300 
yards  wide,  through  and  above  a  congregation  of  huge  rocks 
and  stones  that  extend  nearly  half  a  mile,  and  offers  not 
only  an  unusual  scene,  but  a  spectacle  approaching  much 
nearer  to  the  sublime  than  any  moderate-sized  stream  can 
offer  even  in  the  highest  cascade. 

Castleconnell  is  beautifully  situated  on  the  east  bank.  It 
has  a  popular  Spa,  and  is  a  famous  centre  for  salmon  fish- 
ing. The  castle,  from  which  the  town  is  named,  stands  on 
an  isolated  rock  in  the  middle  of  the  town.  It  was 
anciently  the  seat  of  the  O'Briens.  When  Ginkell, 
William  the  Third's  General,  took  the  castle,  he  caused  it 
to  be  dismantled.  Castleconnell  is  famous  for  its  salmon 
fishing  and  eel  weirs.  The  Castleconnell  fishing  rods  are 
famed  all  over  the  world. 

Eight  miles  above  Castleconnell  near  the  entrance  to 
Lough  Derg  is  Killaloe. 

The  navigation  from  Limerick  to  Killaloe  is  carried  on 
by  canal  so  as  to  avoid  the  rapids  of  Killaloe  and  Castle- 
connell. Killaloe  is  a  charmingly  placed  village,  but  it  is 
probably  best  known  as  the  place  above  all  others  in  Ireland 
dear  to  the  heart  of  the  angler.  The  fine  old  cathedral,  on 
the  site  of  a  much  older  church,  dates  from  the  Twelfth 
Century.  The  Choir  is  used  as  the  parish  church.  Com- 
mencing at  Killaloe  is  Lough  Derg,  an  expansion  of  the 
Shannon  to  the  proportions  of  a  lake.  The  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Cornwall  and  York  made  atrip  up  Lough  Derg 


THE  SHANNON  9 1 

to  Banagher  in  the  summer  of  1897,  anc^  l^e  route  is  now 
known  as  the  "  Duke  of  York  "  route. 

As  every  one  knows,  the  Shannon  is  much  the  largest 
river  in  the  United  Kingdom.  Its  breadth,  where  it  ex- 
pands into  the  long  narrow  lakes  that  mark  so  much  of  its 
course,  stretches  to  as  much  as  thirteen  miles.  Lough 
Derg,  the  first  of  these  expanded  stretches,  is  twenty-three 
miles  long,  and  exceedingly  picturesque.  Its  shining  sur- 
face, overshadowed  by  blue  hills,  is  broken  here  and 
there  by  woody  islands  famous  in  history  and  song.  Killa- 
loe  itself  takes  its  name  from  the  ruined  church  on  the 
island  below  the  twelve-arched  bridge  ("  the  church  on  the 
water").  The  salmon  fisheries  here  are  very  important 
and  profitable,  and — which  is  probably  more  interesting  to 
the  traveller — the  river  is  free  to  every  one  who  possesses 
a  rod  and  line. 

It  was  here,  at  the  lower  end  of  Lough  Derg,  that  Brian 
Boru's  palace  of  Kincora  once  stood,  in  the  Ninth  Century. 
The  mound  on  which  it  was  built  is  all  that  remains  of  a 
place  that  displayed,  1,200  years  ago,  the  utmost  glory  of 
the  fierce,  proud  Irish  kings.  The  ruined  castle  of  Derry 
crowns  another  small  islet;  and  Holy  Island,  thirty  acres  in 
extent,  is  a  spot  full  of  interest.  Like  Glendalough,  it  was 
chosen  out,  early  in  the  Christian  era,  for  a  retreat  of  piety 
and  learning.  One  cannot  but  observe  the  excellent  taste 
in  scenery  displayed  by  the  monks  of  ancient  days,  in  se- 
lecting these  peaceful  refuges  from  a  stormy  world.  What 
can  be  more  lovely  than  the  vale  of  the  seven  churches,  or 
than  Innisfallen  Island  ?  and  Holy  Island  compares  not  at 
all  ill  with  these  still  more  famous  places.  St.  Caimin,  in 
the  early  part  of  the  Seventh  Century,  settled  here,  and 
built  a  monastery,  which  soon  became  famous  for  its  learn- 


92  THE  SHANNON 

ing.  Seven  different  churches  afterwards  grew  up  on  the 
island,  and  one  of  the  most  beautiful  round  towers  in  Ireland 
still  raises  its  head  seventy  feet  above  the  waters  of  the 
lake,  among  the  ruins  of  these  sacred  places.  This  part  of 
the  lake  is  crowded  with  islands,  and  the  ruined  castles  and 
monasteries  are  very  numerous.  At  the  town  of  Portumna, 
some  miles  further  on,  another  stop  is  made,  as  the  castle 
and  abbey  are  particularly  well  worth  seeing.  This  was 
another  spot  celebrated  for  its  learning.  The  monastery 
of  Tirdaglass,  whence  many  manuscripts  issued,  was  founded 
by  St.  Columba  in  the  Sixth  Century.  At  Clonmacnoise, 
further  on,  the  traveller  may  see  the  cradle  of  the  ancient 
art  and  learning  of  Ireland,  and  the  most  important  seat  of 
religion  in  early  days.  St.  Cearan  (early  Sixth  Century)  is 
especially  associated  with  the  spot;  the  great  cathedral  was 
built  in  his  honour,  and  the  holy  well,  dedicated  to  the 
Saint,  is  still  the  object  of  constant  pilgrimage.  Round 
towers,  ancient  Irish  crosses,  ruined  churches  and  monas- 
teries, are  here  in  abundance.  The  ancient  city  of  Clon- 
macnoise has  disappeared  altogether.  This  is  a  place  of 
the  greatest  possible  interest  to  antiquarians,  and  even  ordi- 
nary travellers  will  find  much  pleasure  in  the  beauty  of  the 
picturesque  ruins. 

At  Banagher  is  the  fortified  bridge  of  seven  arches,  pro- 
tected by  two  towers  and  a  battery.  This  is  all  the  more 
interesting,  for,  not  being  an  antiquity  in  any  sense,  it  was 
finished  in  1843,  as  a  matter  of  fact. 

Above  Lough  Derg,  the  country  is  fertile,  but  not  es- 
pecially striking  until  Lough  Ree  is  reached.  This  second 
great  expansion  of  the  river  fairly  rivals  the  first  in  beauty. 
Of  its  twenty-seven  islands,  the  most  attractive  is  Inis 
Clothran,  on  which  the  famous  Queen  Maev  of  Connaught 


THE  SHANNON  93 

spent  her  declining  years.  She  is  said  to  have  built  a 
splendid  stone  house  for  herself  here,  and  lived  on  the 
island  until  she  died,  at  the  age  of  a  hundred  and  two. 
Some  ruins  still  remain  to  mark  the  spot,  although  the  date 
of  Queen  Maev  goes  back  nearly  two  thousand  years. 
Antiquarians  consider  that  Shakespeare's  fairy  Queen  Mab 
was  a  development  of  the  many  legends  told  about  this 
powerful,  wicked,  and  fascinating  Queen  of  far-off  days. 

Portumna,  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  commands  fine  views 
of  Lough  Derg,  and  the  hilly  land  to  the  west.  After 
leaving  this  town  the  scenery  becomes  dull  and  monotonous 
till  we  reach  Meelick,  where  the  river  is  so  devious  that  a 
canal  rejoins  the  Shannon  at  the  mouth  of  the  Little  Brosna. 
Immediately  above,  the  stream  begins  to  divide  and  becomes 
very  tortuous  till  Banagher  is  reached. 

At  the  upper  end  of  Lough  Ree  is  Lanesborough,  a  small 
town  with  a  fine  bridge  of  six  arches  and  a  swivel  arch. 
From  this  point  the  sail  to  Tarmonbarry  presents  little 
beauty  or  interest.  The  country  is  generally  a  wide  extent 
of  bog,  abounding  in  remains  of  trees  and  the  extinct  Irish 
elk.  Opposite  Xarmonbarry,  the  Royal  Canal,  communi- 
cating with  Dublin,  joins  the  Shannon.  When  the  river 
again  widens  into  Lough  Forbes,  the  Seven  Churches  of 
Kilbarry  come  into  view  :  only  three  and  part  of  a  round 
tower  are  now  standing.  Lough  Forbes  is  triangular  in 
shape,  and  the  shores  are  low  boggy  land  not  destitute  of 
a  certain  quiet  beauty.  Lough  Boderg  shaped  like  a  T  is 
the  only  remaining  sheet  of  water  before  reaching  Carrick 
on  Shannon  where  the  tourist's  voyage  generally  ends. 


THE  DANUBE 
I.  BOWES 

NEXT  to  the  Volga,  the  Danube  is  the  largest  river  in 
Europe,  and  for  volume  of  water  and  commercial 
importance  it  far  exceeds  that  river.  It  is  estimated  that 
the  Danube  carries  more  water  to  the  sea  than  all  the  rivers 
of  France. 

The  river  rises  at  the  head  of  a  pleasant  little  valley  high 
up  in  the  mountains  of  the  Black  Forest ;  coming  tumbling 
down  the  rocks  a  tiny  stream  of  clear  water,  and,  gathering 
strength  and  volume  from  numerous  springs  and  rivulets,  it 
cuts  a  deep  channel  into  the  rich  soil  and  dances  gaily 
along,  presently  to  be  joined  by  the  Brigach  and  its  twin- 
sister,  the  Brege,  which  rise  about  ten  miles  further  to  the 
south.  These  are  the  highest  sources  of  the  mighty  River 
Danube,  the  great  water  highway  of  Europe,  celebrated  for 
ages  in  legend  and  song  and  in  ancient  and  modern  history 
for  important  military  events,  and,  in  its  flow  of  nearly 
2,000  miles  to  the  Black  Sea,  unfolding  the  most  remarkable 
panoramas  of  natural  beauty  known  to  the  geographer; 
whilst  on  its  banks  may  be  found  groups  of  the  most  inter- 
esting nationalities  of  the  world. 

Donaueschingen,  a  tidy  little  town  in  the  Grand  Duchy 
of  Baden,  is  sometimes  called  the  source  of  the  Danube. 
It  is  situated  about  a  mile  and  a  half  below  the  point  where 
the  Brigach  and  the  Brege  join  the  river,  which  from  this 
point  is  called  the  Donau  or  Danube,  and  it  is  the  head  of 


THE  DANUBE  95 

the  navigation  for  small  boats  on  the  upper  river.  Between 
here  and  Ulm  there  are  twenty-one  weirs  and  dams,  and 
many  pleasant  villages,  pretty  little  towns,  ruined  castles,  and 
princely  residences ;  amongst  the  latter  may  be  named 
Hohenzollern,  near  Sigmaringen,  the  seat  of  the  Imperial 
family  of  Prussia.  The  scenery  in  the  locality  of  the  castle 
is  of  great  beauty,  and  the  town,  pleasantly  situated  on  the 
banks  of  the  river,  has  a  charming  appearance. 

The  river  below  Sigmaringen  flows  through  a  broad, 
fertile  valley,  and  with  a  quicker  current,  as  the  banks  have 
been  partially  canalized ;  and  small  towns,  with  names 
of  wondrous  length  and  ponderous  sound,  such  as  Munder- 
kingen,  Kiedlingen,  Reichenstein,  etc.,  suggest  places  that 
are  or  have  been  of  great  importance.  In  the  distance  the 
great  tower  of  the  Cathedral  of  Ulm  is  seen  rising  up  out 
of  the  low  horizon.  Ulm  is  a  great  military  stronghold, 
and  the  old  town  a  maze  of  narrow,  crooked  streets.  The 
Cathedral  is  said  to  be  next  in  size  to  that  at  Cologne,  and 
is  a  fine  specimen  of  Gothic  architecture,  with  the  highest 
stone  tower  in  the  world. 

Below  Ulm  several  smaller  towns  are  passed  before 
reaching  Ratisbon,  a  city  of  40,000  inhabitants,  famous  for 
many  historical  events.  The  Cathedral  of  Saint  Peter  is 
one  of  the  architectural  glories  of  Germany.  Freight 
steamers,  barges,  tugboats,  and  passenger  steamers  abound 
on  this  part  of  the  river.  Long  flat  boats  sixty  feet  long, 
such  as  we  see  on  the  Rhine,  pass  down  to  the  Lower 
Danube,  laden  with  grain,  timber,  etc. 

Linz,  with  its  500,000  inhabitants,  is  an  interesting 
town  ;  and  the  river  scenery,  between  here  and  Vienna,  is 
said  to  rival  the  Rhine  scenery,  the  hills  being  more  varied 
in  outline  and  the  slopes  richer  in  verdure. 


g6  THE  DANUBE 

At  Vienna  the  river  is  more  crowded  still,  and  is  crossed 
by  some  fine  road  and  railway  bridges ;  and  many  show 
sights  are  here,  such  as  cathedrals,  historical  buildings,  etc., 
and  more  than  a  fair  share  of  cafes,  theatres  and  music- 
halls.  In  this  respect  it  rivals  Paris,  and,  some  say,  exceeds 
it  in  wickedness. 

After  leaving  Vienna,  Hamburg,  Kieben  and  Presburg 
(with  its  50,000  inhabitants),  where  the  Hungarian  kings 
have  for  ages  been  crowned,  are  passed ;  then  Komorn,  and 
through  the  fertile  plains  of  Hungary  to  Buda  Pesth,  a 
beautiful,  prosperous  city,  with  a  population  of  500,000. 
It  is  said  that  the  extensive  quays  facing  the  river  and  the 
imposing  buildings  are  the  finest  on  the  whole  course  of  the 
Danube.  Lower  down  the  river  the  inhabitants  on  either 
bank  show  distinct  traces  of  Magyar  descent. 

And  now  leaving  the  Hungarian  territory  for  Servia, 
Belgrade  with  its  great  fortress  comes  in  sight.  Many 
parts  of  the  city  are  Turkish  in  appearance,  and  the  in- 
habitants are  a  mixture  of  Hungarians,  Turks  and  Servians. 

About  sixty  miles  below  Belgrade  the  river  leaves  the 
Hungarian  plains,  and  at  Bazias  the  chief  hindrances  to  the 
navigation  of  the  Danube  begin  and  extend  to  Sibb,  a  dis- 
tance of  about  eighty-two  miles.  The  obstructions  may  be 
divided  into  four  sections,  viz  : — No.  I.  The  Stenka 
Rapids;  No.  2.  The  Kozla  Dojke  ;  No.  3.  The  Greben 
Section ;  and  No.  4.  The  Iron  Gates.  The  first  named 
rapids  are  about  1,100  yards  long;  nine  miles  lower  down 
the  second  section — about  one  and  a  half  miles  long — be- 
gins, and  the  river  is  narrowed  from  about  1,000  yards  in 
width  to  about  300  and  in  some  places  170  yards.  These 
rapids  are  caused  by  rocks  in  the  bed  of  the  river,  some  of 
which  are  almost  dry  at  low  water,  extending  nearly  across 


THE  DANUBE  97 

it,  and  causing  sudden  alterations  in  the  currents  and 
dangerous  whirlpools  and  eddies. 

At  Greben,  four  miles  lower  down,  there  were  formi- 
dable obstacles  to  be  overcome,  and  some  of  the  heaviest 
work  in  the  undertaking  had  to  be  faced ;  for  at  this  point 
a  spur  of  the  Greben  Mountain  juts  out  into  the  river,  and 
suddenly  reduces  its  width  at  low  water.  When  the  snow 
and  ice  in  the  upper  reaches  of  the  river  melt,  or  in  heavy 
rain,  the  river  rapidly  rises,  and,  being  blocked  by  these  ob- 
stacles, causes  damaging  floods  in  the  fertile  valleys  of 
Hungary. 

Below  the  Greben  rapids  the  river  widens  out  to  about 
one  and  a  half  miles,  and  passing  the  cutting  and  training 
walls  at  the  rapids  of  Jucz  enters  the  Kazan  defile,  which 
is  said  to  be  the  most  picturesque  part  of  the  Lower  Danube. 
The  cliffs,  of  great  height,  approach  nearer  and  nearer  to 
each  other,  until  the  river  is  contracted  to  120  yards  wide. 

Passing  through  this  dark  and  sombre  defile  into  the 
valley  of  Dubova,  it  widens  to  500  metres  ;  the  mountains 
again  approach  and  reduce  the  width  to  about  200  yards. 
The  depth  at  these  straits  varies  from  ten  metres  to  fifty 
metres.  It  was  through  this  defile  that  Trajan,  nearly 
2,000  years  ago,  made  riverside  roads  and  towing  paths  in 
continuation  of  the  small  canals  and  waterways  to  evade  the 
rocks  and  currents  and  to  facilitate  the  transport  of  his 
armies  and  military  trains  for  the  Roman  campaigns  in 
Central  Europe.  The  ruins  of  these  works  are  a  proof 
of  the  great  labour  expended  upon  them,  and  also  of  the 
skill  in  engineering  possessed  by  the  Romans  in  those  days. 
The  tablets  engraved  on  the  rocks,  still  in  part  visible,  com- 
memorate their  heroic  deeds. 

Following  our  course  down  the  river,  at  ten  kilometres 


98  THE  DANUBE 

from  the  Kazan,  we  come  to  Orsova,  a  rather  important 
place  of  call  for  steamers  and  trading-vessels ;  and,  now 
that  the  river  is  navigable  for  larger  vessels,  this  place  is 
destined,  from  its  railway  communications,  etc.,  to  become 
a  great  trading  centre. 

At  a  distance  of  eight  kilometres  from  Orsova,  the  Iron 
Gate,  situated  between  Roumania  and  Servia  begins,  and  is 
for  a  length  of  about  three  kilometres  the  largest  and  most 
dangerous  obstacle  on  the  Lower  Danube.  The  rocks  in 
the  channel  impede  the  current,  forming  dangerous  eddies 
and  cataracts. 

The  Prigrada  Rock  rises  above  low  water  with  a  width 
of  250  metres  and  a  length  of  about  two  kilometres, 
stretches  in  a  crooked  line  across  the  river  to  the  Rou- 
manian shore,  with  a  narrow  channel,  through  which  ves- 
sels of  light  draught  only  can  be  navigated  with  difficulty. 
The  river,  pouring  over  this  rock,  forms  dangerous  whirl- 
pools and  cataracts,  requiring  the  greatest  watchfulness, 
care,  and  experience  on  the  part  of  the  navigator  to  over- 
come the  dangers  of  what  has  well  been  called  "  The  Iron 
Gates."  Hundreds  of  steamers  and  vessels  have  been 
wrecked  in  attempting  this  dangerous  passage. 

Like  many  other  great  projects  many  schemes  had  been 
proposed  and  plans  for  carrying  them  out  by  different 
authorities  had  been  considered,  but  nothing  definite  was 
done  until  in  1888,  the  Hungarian  Government,  under 
rights  conferred  upon  it  by  the  Berlin  Treaty  of  1878,  and 
the  London  Treaty  of  1871,  undertook  the  work  of  con- 
struction and  administration  under  the  conditions  of  the 
treaties  which  gave  them  the  power  to  levy  tolls  on  trade 
ships  for  covering  the  expenses  of  the  works. 

The   ceremony  of  the   inauguration   took  place  on  the 


THE  DANUBE  99 

27th  of  September,  1896,  when  the  Emperor  of  Austria, 
King  Charles  of  Roumania,  and  King  Alexander  of  Servia, 
with  an  immense  gathering  of  bishops,  generals  and  diplo- 
matic representatives,  etc.,  met  at  Orsova,  and  proceeded 
through  the  Iron  Gates  and  the  beautiful  and  romantic 
Kazan  Pass  with  a  procession  of  six  vessels,  which  included 
a  monitor  and  torpedo  boat,  and  accompanied  by  a  con- 
tinuous discharge  of  artillery  and  the  loud  huzzas  of  the 
immense  gathering  of  soldiers,  visitors  and  inhabitants. 

Below  the  Iron  Gates  the  river  broadens  out  and  the 
scenery  is  tame  and  uninteresting,  for  the  vast  plains  of 
Roumania  extend  from  the  foot  of  the  hills  here  to  the 
shores  of  the  Black  Sea,  and  the  maritime  and  commercial 
aspects  of  the  surroundings  begin  to  manifest  themselves — 
the  river  becomes  more  crowded  with  craft  of  all  kinds  as 
we  approach  the  towns  on  the  Lower  Danube. 

We  pass  Widin,  and,  lower  down,  Sistova  where,  in  the 
Russo-Turkish  war,  the  Russians  crossed  the  river  to 
Plevna  and  the  Balkan  passes.  Thirty-five  miles  lower 
down  we  reach  Rustchuk,  the  most  important  Bulgarian 
town  on  the  river,  and  fast  becoming  a  great  emporium  of 
trade,  being  on  the  main  line  of  railway  to  Constantinople, 
via  Varna. 

We  then  pass  Silistria  and  approach  the  longest  railroad 
bridge  in  the  world.  This  bridge  crosses  the  Danube  be- 
low Silistria,  and  carries  the  railway  from  Kustendji  on  the 
Black  Sea  into  Roumania. 

Braila,  125  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  river,  is  the 
chief  port  for  the  shipment  of  produce,  etc.,  from  the  grain- 
growing  regions  of  Roumania  and  Northern  Bulgaria. 
Here  are  extensive  docks,  grain  elevators,  and  thousands  of 
men  of  all  nationalities  engaged  in  loading  steamers  and 


100  THE  DANUBE 

sailing  vessels  from  all  countries.  The  British  flag  is 
everywhere  present.  As  a  commercial  port  the  place  is 
fast  outstripping  its  neighbour,  Galatz,  fifteen  miles  lower 
down. 

From  Galatz  to  the  sea,  the  navigation  of  the  river,  the 
dredging,  removing  of  obstacles,  levying  of  tolls,  etc.,  is 
controlled  by  an  International  Commission  established  by 
treaty  in  1878,  since  which  date  great  improvements  have 
been  made,  chiefly  in  the  lower  reaches  and  the  Sulina 
mouth  of  the  river,  by  the  construction  of  groynes,  revet- 
ments and  cuttings  to  avoid  the  bends,  and  constant  dredg« 
ings  by  powerful  dredgers  are  carried  on. 


THE  NIGER 

J.  HAMPDEN  JACKSON 

IT  will  probably  be  a  century  hence  before  men  fully 
realize  the  extent  of  the  world's  debt  to  those  English 
noblemen  and  gentlemen  who  in  the  last  decade  of  the  last 
century,  sent  forth  Mungo  Park  as  their  emissary  to  find 
and  trace  specifically  upon  the  map  all  he  might  discover  as 
to  this  mysterious  river.  Their  choice  of  the  man  was  ex- 
ceptionally fortunate. 

I  pass  over  all  their  disappointments,  and  the  persistent 
courage  with  which  they  bore  them,  and  need  only  remind 
you  that  these  Englishmen  of  the  African  Association — 
soon  afterwards  to  become  the  Royal  Geographical  Society 
— not  only  found  and  equipped  Park  and  Clapperton  and 
Lander,  but  it  was  at  their  cost,  on  their  business  and  for 
their  entertainment  alone,  that  Earth,  the  German  explorer 
(whose  brilliant  and  most  accurate  explorations  are  in  our 
day  constantly  credited  to  his  own  nation  instead  of  ours), 
undertook  and  finished  his  great  journeys  into  Hausaland 
from  North  Africa. 

We  follow  Park  from  his  first  discovery  of  the  Niger  at 
Sego,  look  with  him  on  the  breadth  at  that  spot  of  its 
stream,  realize  his  disappointment  at  having  to  return  to 
England ;  his  joy  at  coming  for  the  second  time  to  Bam- 
barra,  and  then  his  voyage  in  the  little  craft  bearing  his 
country's  flag  down  to  the  devious  waters  of  the  unexplored 
river;  past  Kabara,  from  whose  hill-top  he  might  have 


IO2  THE  NIGER 

seen  Timbuktu  had  he  but  known  and  had  he  not  been  at- 
tacked there  by  the  people  on  trying  to  land.  Next  we 
sail  with  Park  past  Birni,  close  to  the  capital  of  the  former 
Songhay  Empire,  past  Say,  up  the  stream  to  Boussa,  the 
capital  of  Borgu,  650  miles  from  the  sea ;  and  here  on  that 
memorable  day  of  1806  we  see  poor  Park  meet  his  death, 
and  I  hope  it  may  not  be  long  ere  some  worthy  obelisk  at 
the  spot  shall  set  forth  indelibly  the  great  record  of  his  mis- 
sion. 

We  come  now  to  Richard  Lander,  and  in  like  manner  I 
take  you  over  the  route  of  this  famous  voyager,  from 
Badagry  (whence  he  struck  inland)  to  Boussa,  where  he 
found  the  relics  of  Park,  and  then  in  his  boats  down 
stream  past  Mount  Jebba — standing  midway  in  the  river, 
with  an  elevation  above  sea  level  of  some  300  feet — past 
Rabbah — then  the  largest  city  on  the  Niger — to  Egga, 
where  the  great  ferry  of  the  Kano-Ilorin  traffic  makes  pros- 
perous the  chief  port  of  Nupe,  and  now — in  the  distance — 
appears  the  table-topped  Mount  Patteh,  rising  1,300  feet 
from  the  right  bank,  and  as  we  sail  with  Lander  under  its 
shadow  there  opens  out  before  us  the  noble  confluence  at 
Lokoja,  where  the  Benue,  the  Niger's  mighty  tributary, 
pours  its  mile-broad  current  into  this  great  West  African 
river.  Next  Lander  passes  between  the  jagged  and  stunted 
peaks  of  the  Nigretian  Alps,  and  nearing  Idda,  sees  its  bold 
precipices  of  red  sandstone  rear  themselves  on  the  left  bank, 
and  admires  the  giant  baobab  trees,  the  clustered  round- 
roofed  huts,  and  the  busy  throngs  of  Igara  people  passing 
to  and  fro  from  the  riverside.  But  our  explorer  has  vowed 
to  follow  the  great  Niger  to  its  outflow,  and  we  are  still 
some  280  miles  from  the  sea. 

So  Lander  passes  on  in  his  boats,  and  nearing  Asaba — 


THE  NIGER  103 

now  the  seat  of  English  government  on  the  river — he  notes 
that  the  native  houses  are  now  all  of  rectangular  shape,  and 
the  people  of  Eboe  type,  and  soon  he  is  at  Abo,  and  the 
tidal  waters  are  recognized  just  as  the  ruffians  of  the  Brass 
slaving  fleet  rush  upon  him  and — capsizing  his  craft — 
Lander  barely  escapes  with  his  life  to  find  his  brother 
drowning  also.  Rescued  at  last,  John  Lander  is  brought 
prisoner,  together  with  Richard  to  the  Brass  mouth  of  the 
Niger,  and  their  sufferings  whilst  waiting  release  and  sub- 
sequently until  landed  at  Fernando  Po  may  well  have  made 
them  dread  the  name  of  Brassmen.  It  may  be  that  some 
day  at  Brass,  or  Akassa,  English  hands  will  raise  a  fitting 
and  permanent  memorial  to  this  modest,  uncultured  and 
sterling  character,  who  solved  for  all  mankind  the  greatest 
geographical  problem  of  his  time,  and  opened  the  door  for 
European  commerce  and  civilization  into  West  Central 
Africa.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  MacQueen  had  all 
along  contended  that  the  Niger  would  be  found  to  issue 
into  the  Atlantic  through  the  swamps  of  the  Bights  of  Benin 
and  Biafra,  nor  are  the  reasons  now  obscure  that  account 
for  that  long  hiding  of  geographical  truth  in  the  Gulf  of 
Guinea.  The  Niger  Delta  is  one  covering  14,000  square 
miles ;  the  Delta  rivers  creep  into  the  sea  almost  unper- 
ceived  through  the  low-level  mangrove  swamp  ;  the  whole 
region  reeks  with  fevers  and  dysentery,  and  at  the  time  of 
Lander's  discovery  the  only  trade  to  be  done  in  that  "  God- 
forgotten  Guinea"  was  the  slave-trade.  Such  white  men 
as  ventured  to  the  Delta,  therefore,  were  bent  on  secrecy 
rather  than  on  discovery  ;  and  this  had  been  the  state  of 
things  for  centuries.  No  wonder  that  the  Niger  had  been  a 
mystery,  but  it  was  a  mystery  no  more. 

The  next  step  for  its  exploration  was  taken  by  Liverpool. 


104  THE  NIGER 

Macgregor  Laird  raised  a  large  fund  among  his  merchant 
friends  on  the  exchange,  and  added  thereto  a  large  part  of 
his  own  fortune,  built  and  equipped  two  steamships — the 
^uorra  and  Alburka — and  (with  but  little  aid  from  the 
Government)  took  charge  personally  of  this  bold  expedition, 
and  in  1832  sailed  for  the  Niger.  Now,  look  at  these 
banks  forty  feet  at  least  above  the  river  level,  and  remem- 
ber that  for  three  to  four  months  of  the  year  the  villages 
lining  them  are  simply  floating  in  the  vast  waste  of  the 
Niger  inundations.  Mr.  Laird  found  by  a  bitter  experience 
that  it  was  all  very  well  to  steam  up  the  Niger  when  the 
stream  was  at  flood,  but  when  your  crew  were  all  down  with 
fever  and  the  river  began  to  fall  at  the  rate  of  a  foot  per 
day,  the  least  accident — such  as  the  stranding  of  the  little 
tjhiorra — locked  you  up  bag  and  baggage  for  a  whole 
twelve  months,  and  brought  you  face  to  face  with  terrible 
dangers.  The  mortality  on  board  the  steamers  was  awful, 
but  Laird  kept  the  expedition  well  in  hand ;  he  explored  a 
great  part  of  the  upper  middle  Niger,  a  considerable  dis- 
tance up  the  Benue,  and  established  the  first  English  trad- 
ing factories,  350  miles  from  the  mouth  of  the  Niger,  ere 
his  return  to  Liverpool.  Like  all  other  travellers  who  have 
seen  the  Benue,  Laird  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  vol- 
ume and  purity  of  its  waters,  the  beauty  of  its  landscape  on 
either  bank,  and  the  rich  promise  of  development  in  its  al- 
ready quickened  commerce.  Look  at  the  woodland  beauty 
at  Ribago,  for  instance  ;  or  the  fine  cultivated  plain  at  Yola ; 
and  the  impressive  rock-fortress  at  Imaha.  And  see  these 
fine  Hausa  peoples  who  inhabit  the  Sokoto  and  Bornu  coun- 
tries of  the  inter-riverine  plateau.  They  are  an  ancient 
race,  grave  and  industrious,  of  fine  physique  and  highly  in- 
tellectual phrenological  type. 


THE  NIGER  105 

Centuries  ago  Macrisi — the  Egyptian  historian — told  of 
their  gourd-ferries,  and  the  world  laughed  at  such  a  "  trav- 
eller's tale  " }  but  here  you  see  them  for  yourselves.  Cen- 
turies ago  men  wrote  of  the  vast  city  of  Timbuktu,  but 
what  is  Timbuktu  to  Kano,  the  Hausa  capital  ?  Look  at 
this  wall  surrounding  Sokoto  City,  and  think  of  the  wall  of 
Kano  being  as  high  as  that  and  fifteen  miles  round !  The 
Fulah  aristocracy  live  at  Sokoto,  and  their  Sultan  bears 
spiritual  rule  over  the  greater  part  of  Hausaland ;  his 
temporal  power  is  no  myth,  either,  for  in  1891  he  raised 
an  army  of  40,000  men — half  of  whom  were  cavalry — un- 
der the  eyes  of  Monteil.  But  the  crumbling  houses  of 
Sokoto  tell  their  own  tale  of  a  city  that  has  long  passed  its 
zenith,  and  like  Timbuktu,  whose  population  has  fallen  from 
200,000  to  7,000,  like  Katsena,  whose  population  has  fallen 
from  100,000  to  6,000,  so  Sokoto  is  daily  yielding  its 
temporal  sceptre  to  Kano,  the  city  of  markets  and  manu- 
factures, the  centre  of  literature  as  well  as  of  prosperous 
agriculture,  the  starting-point  of  the  Soudan  caravans,  the 
central  slave  market,  cloth  market,  metal  market  and  the 
busy  focus  of  all  industries.  See  the  great  market  square 
in  which  30,000  people  assemble  for  commercial  exchange 
every  week;  these  fourteen  gates,  through  which  the  hosts 
of  organized  caravans  are  ever  issuing,  most  of  them  600 
or  800  strong  at  the  very  least,  and  twenty  of  which  go 
every  year  to  Salaga  for  Kola-nut  alone  !  Think  of  the 
Mecca  pilgrims  who  all  assembled  here  to  form  their  great 
cavalcades  yearly ;  of  the  60,000  artificers  and  cultivators 
living  in  this  Kano,  with  its  enclosed  fields  of  rich  crops, 
its  leather  factories,  shoe  and  sandal  factories,  dyeing 
works,  cotton  spinning  and  weaving,  basket  making,  brass 
manufacture  and  ornamentation,  etc.  And  remember  that, 


106  THE  NIGER 

thanks  to  our  English  chartered  companies,  this  Kano,  and 
these  fine  Hausa  people — whose  language  has  long  been 
the  key-tongue  of  all  trade  in  Central  Africa — are  brought 
securely  under  the  flag  and  influence  of  Great  Britain.  It 
is,  from  our  point  of  view,  a  drawback  that  Kano  lies  at  an 
unhealthy  level,  and  its  people  defy  every  sanitary  decency 
in  their  abbatoir  and  cemetery  arrangements,  but  that  is 
their  way  of  being  happy.  Katsena  is  much  more  salubri- 
ous, having  1,500  feet  of  elevation. 

Ere  long,  under  British  tutelage,  and  freed  from  dread  of 
the  Fulah  slave-raider,  the  rascal  who  raids  his  own  people 
for  the  mere  joy  of  it,  freed  from  this  curse,  the  Hausa 
States  will  rise  to  preeminence  through  the  aptitude  and  ca- 
pacity for  discipline  inherent  in  that  virile  people. 

I  must  pass  over  Bornu  and  its  great  chief  city  of  Kuka, 
but  would  like  to  dwell  for  a  moment  on  the  deeply  inter- 
esting fact  that  here — in  the  Chartered  State  of  British 
Nigretia — we  tread  upon  the  dust  of  empires.  At  the  time 
of  our  Heptarchy  this  very  Bornu  was  the  seat  of  a  Negro 
empire  covering  a  million  and  a  half  square  miles,  and  ex- 
tending from  the  Niger  to  the  Nile.  And  Sokoto  and 
Gandu — our  Treaty  states — formed  but  part  of  the  Negro 
empire  of  Songhay,  having  its  capital  at  Gogo  on  the 
Niger,  and  extending  westward  and  northward  as  far  as  the 
Atlantic  and  Morocco. 


THE  AMAZON 

JOSEPH  JONES 

THE  main  stream  of  the  Amazon  is  about  4,000  miles 
long — long  enough  that  is  to  go  in  a  circle  twice 
round  the  British  Isles,  or  600  miles  longer  than  the  voyage 
from  Liverpool  to  New  York.  For  the  lowest  250  miles 
of  its  course  it  is  fifty  miles  wide,  or  if  the  Island  of  Marajo 
in  its  mouth  be  regarded  as  a  huge  sand  bank,  which  is 
what  it  really  is,  then  it  is  20O  miles  wide  at  its  mouth.  In 
other  words,  one  might  take  the  whole  of  Scotland,  push  it 
into  the  mouth  of  this  river  and  leave  only  a  small  piece 
projecting.  The  Amazon  has  nineteen  very  large  tribu- 
taries, each  of  which  is  really  a  gigantic  river  in  itself,  and 
through  these  tributaries  it  is  connected  with  the  Orinoco 
and  the  River  Plata.  The  Amazon  rises  near  the  west 
coast  of  South  America,  about  sixty  miles  from  Lima  in 
Peru,  and  runs  into  the  Atlantic,  traversing  nearly  the  whole 
width  of  the  widest  part  of  South  America  in  its  course. 
Its  depth  in  places  is  twenty  fathoms  or  120  feet.  It  drains 
an  area  nearly  the  size  of  all  Europe,  and  is  the  largest  body 
of  fresh  water  in  the  world.  Its  average  speed  of  flow  is 
two  and  a  half  miles  per  hour.  Hence  in  going  up-stream 
a  boat  hugs  the  bank  to  avoid  the  current,  whilst  in  descend- 
ing it  sails  in  mid-stream  in  order  to  obtain  full  advantage 
of  the  same.  As  may  be  guessed,  progress  is  quicker  down- 
stream than  up.  The  influence  of  its  flow  can  be  felt  150 
miles  from  the  shore.  On  one  occasion  the  mess-room 


108  THE  AMAZON 

steward  filled  the  filter  direct  from  the  sea  when  the  ship 
was  long  out  of  sight  of  land,  yet  the  water  was  only  very 
slightly  brackish.  The  inland  navigation  of  the  Amazon 
and  its  branches  extends  over  20,000  miles.  The  name  is 
supposed  to  be  derived  from  "  Amassona,"  the  Indian  word 
for  "  boat-destroyer,"  on  account  of  the  tidal  wave  which 
rages  in  the  channel  to  the  north  of  the  Island  of  Marajo, 
and  on  account  of  which  boats  enter  by  the  south  channel. 

The  river  is  high  at  the  end  of  the  rainy  season  and  low 
after  the  dry  season,  but  even  at  low  river  the  ship  in  which 
I  sailed,  an  ocean-going  steamer,  experienced  no  difficulty 
in  sailing  as  far  as  Manaos.  The  difference  in  level  is  a 
matter  of  thirty  feet,  so  that  whereas  in  August  you  step 
out  of  a  small  boat  on  to  the  landing-stage,  in  October,  when 
the  river  is  about  at  its  lowest,  you  have  to  walk  on  planks, 
from  the  boat  to  the  foot  of  the  landing-stage,  mount  this 
by  a  ladder  and  go  ashore. 

Being  so  near  the  equator,  the  Amazon  is  in  a  warm 
district.  In  the  coolest  part  of  the  ship  the  temperature 
used  to  rise  to  84°  Fahrenheit  in  the  afternoon,  whilst  in 
the  sun  120°  Fahrenheit  was  registered,  and  some  of  the 
pitch  in  the  seams  of  the  deck  was  melted.  This  was  when 
ascending  the  river.  There  is  a  ten  knot  breeze  from  the 
sea  which  makes  it  cooler  on  returning,  but  on  the  inward 
journey  when  travelling  with  the  wind  and  at  practically 
the  same  speed,  one  is  of  course  in  a  dead  calm  and  uncom- 
fortably hot.  The  river  water  itself  at  6  A.  M.,  was  always 
between  88°  Fahrenheit  and  89°  Fahrenheit. 

Besides  steamers  the  Amazon  is  navigated  by  battalongs, 
wooden  craft,  about  twelve  yards  in  length,  covered  with 
an  awning  of  palm  branches,  which  come  from  Peru  and 
elsewhere  with  native  produce,  are  manned  by  Indians  who 


THE  AMAZON  109 

live  aboard,  and  which  take  two  months  to  get  back  home 
from  Manaos  against  the  stream.  Smaller  boats  are  driven 
by  square  sails  of  blue  and  white  cotton,  which  bear  traces 
of  Manchester  origin,  and  there  are  also  native  canoes  pro- 
pelled by  paddles. 

The  Indians  fish  in  an  interesting  manner  by  means  of 
bow  and  arrow,  with  a  line  attached  to  the  arrow.  If  they 
can  get  a  couple  of  arrows  firmly  shot  in  they  can  usually 
haul  in  a  river  turtle  or  other  large  fish.  There  is  a  large 
fish  with  red  flesh  which  serves  the  people  in  some  parts 
instead  of  beef  (cattle  being  dear).  Thus  they  don't  fulfil 
the  old  definition  of  an  angler  as  "  a  worm  at  one  end  and 
a  fool  at  the  other."  River  turtle  when  caught  are  laid  on 
their  backs,  in  which  position  they  are  helpless,  and  one  on 
board  the  ship  laid  eighty-six  eggs  at  one  break  whilst  in 
this  position.  The  eggs  are  spherical,  covered  with  a  flexi- 
ble limy  shell,  and  resemble  in  appearance  a  small  tennis- 
ball.  They  are  a  treat  out  there,  where  eggs  are  very 
scarce.  The  flesh  of  this  kind  of  turtle  is  rather  tough  and 
not  unlike  pork. 

A  great  variety  of  animal  life  is  to  be  found,  including 
mosquitoes,  cockroaches,  moths,  butterflies,  alligators, 
snakes,  tarantulas,  centipedes,  and  grasshoppers. 

The  savage  people,  who  live  some  little  distance  from 
the  river,  are  of  about  our  average  height  and  build, 
walnut-coloured,  with  long  straight  jet-black  hair.  In 
war  they  fight  with  bamboo-headed  spears  and  poisoned 
arrows,  the  latter  propelled  by  a  powerful  bow  seven  feet 
long.  The  arrow-heads,  of  bone,  are  dipped  in  snake 
venom  and  inflict  a  mortal  wound.  The  venom  is  said  to 
be  procured  by  boiling  snakes'  heads  to  extract  it  from  the 
glands  and  evaporating  the  solution  to  almost  dryness. 


110  THE  AMAZON 

Right  inland  the  tribes  often  have  battles,  and  the  victors 
kill  the  women  and  children  of  the  vanquished.  They 
have  a  horrible  habit  of  cutting  off  the  heads  of  girls, 
skinning  them,  and  curing  the  skin  in  such  a  way  that  it 
shrinks,  but  retains  its  colour  and  texture,  when  they  stuff 
it,  producing  a  head  the  size  of  one's  fist,  but  perfect  in 
shape.  They  sell  them  at  from  £12  to  ^30  to  Europeans, 
who  ought  to  know  better  than  to  buy  them. 

The  civilized  people  speak  the  Portuguese  language 
and  are  of  European  habits.  They  are  more  polite  than 
the  British,  though  this  is  noticeable  by  their  habits  being 
different  from  ours  rather  than  by  being  better.  For  in- 
stance, I  have  seen  a  first-class  passenger  expectorate  on 
the  saloon  floor  when  at  dinner  and  never  blush,  but  he 
would  think  himself  dreadfully  impolite  if  he  wore  his  hat 
in  a  restaurant.  One  is  impelled  to  Max  O'Rell's  con- 
clusion that  "  one  nation  is  not  better  or  worse  than 
another.  One  nation  is  different  from  another,  that  is  all." 

The  money  is  mostly  paper,  and  there  is  no  paper  legal 
tender  less  than  the  milreis  (2s.  3d.  nominally,  actually 
about  yd.).  In  Para  small  change  is  given  in  tram  tickets. 

The  vegetable  kingdom  numbers  17,000  species  and  is 
a  veritable  fairy-land.  Orchids,  which  with  us  are  so 
highly  prized,  are  much  cheaper  there.  Very  many 
varieties  grow  quite  wild  and  are  little  esteemed.  I  know 
one  man  who  had  an  orange  tree  in  his  garden  and  con- 
sidered it  a  nuisance.  It  crowded  out  some  valuable  exotic 
orchids.  He  would  willingly  have  let  any  one  take  it  away 
but  no  one  would  have  it.  The  whole  country  resembles  a 
gigantic  greenhouse,  and  it  is  not  without  a  touch  of  annoy- 
ance that  a  Briton  sees  beautiful  palms  and  other  trees 
wasted  on  people  who  do  not  appreciate  them  when  they 


THE  AMAZON  1 1 1 

would  be  welcome  at  home.  The  hanging  roots  or  tendrils, 
which  grow  downwards  from  the  branches  until  they  take 
root  in  the  ground,  are  quite  strange  to  us,  and  they  offer 
great  resistance  to  path-making.  The  most  important  tree 
is  the  india  rubber,  Herveia  Brasilensis,  which  is  a  large 
tree,  and  entirely  different  from  the  Ficus  elasticus,  which 
is  commonly  called  "  india  rubber "  here  and  grown  in 
rooms.  The  raw  rubber  is  obtained  by  incising  the  bark 
and  collecting  the  "milk"  in  a  can.  A  paddle  is  dipped 
into  this  and  the  milk  adhering  to  it  smoked  over  some 
burning  nuts.  This  is  done  with  successive  dippings  until 
a  piece  the  size  of  a  ham  is  on  the  paddle,  when  a  slit  is 
made  in  the  side  and  the  paddle  withdrawn.  It  is  quite 
possible  that  the  wily  native  may  insert  a  pebble,  when  he 
has  withdrawn  the  paddle,  since  rubber  is  sold  by  weight. 
The  best  quality  is  that  obtained  from  the  Island  of  Marajo 
and  known  as  Island  Rubber.  This  is  said  to  be  because 
a  species  of  nut  grows  there  the  smoke  of  which  cures  the 
rubber  better  than  any  other  kind  of  smoke.  It  is  said 
that  every  kind  of  rubber  requires  some  admixture  of  the 
Para  variety  to  make  it  useful  in  commerce.  Many  of  the 
rubber  cutters  live  in  shanties  on  the  river's  edge  and  keep 
a  canoe  moored  at  the  door.  More  inland  the  poorer 
classes  live  in  mud  huts  built  on  a  framework  of  light  wood. 
Some  of  these  when  whitewashed  make  very  presentable 
houses,  as  seen  in  the  view  of  the  main  street  of  Parentins, 
where  the  post-office  and  neighbouring  buildings  are  all  of 
this  sort.  The  cathedrals  are  generally  handsome  build- 
ings, and  the  post-office  at  Para  is  a  pretty  structure. 

The  shops  are  open  fronted  and  usually  have  no 
windows,  so  that  at  a  short  distance  one  cannot  tell  of 
what  kind  they  are  unless  the  goods  are  displayed  outside. 


112  THE  AMAZON 

The  streets  are  peculiarly  named,  for  instance  "  Fifteenth 
of  November  Square  "  (date  of  foundation  of  the  Republic), 
"  Dr.  Guimarez  Lane,"  and  so  on. 

The  cities  bear  very  evident  traces  of  newness.  You 
may  see  a  public  square  enclosing  a  tract  of  virgin  soil  and 
except  that  the  palms  are  planted  in  straight  rows  all  the 
vegetation  is  natural.  There  are  handsome  walnut  counters 
in  whitewashed  stores  and  burglar-proof  safes  inside  offices 
which  you  could  demolish  with  your  foot. 

Outside  the  cities  the  general  appearance  of  the  country 
gives  one  an  idea  of  what  Britain  must  have  been  like  at 
the  time  of  the  Roman  invasion,  and  shows  how  civiliza- 
tion spread  along  the  course  of  the  rivers. 


THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG 

W.  R.  CARLES 

THE  great  river  of  China  which  foreigners  call  the 
Yangtse  Chiang,  has  its  sources  on  the  south-east 
edge  of  the  great  steppes  which  form  Central  Asia.  Rising 
almost  due  north  of  Calcutta,  it  flows  eastwards  for  some 
500  miles,  draining  a  very  considerable  area  on  its  way, 
and  then  turns  southwards  until  it  is  penned  in  by  the 
great  parallel  ranges  which  until  recent  years  have  hidden 
it  and  its  great  neighbours  from  European  eyes.  Even  after 
entering  China  its  course  has  remained  obscure,  and  the 
deep  rift  through  which  it  makes  its  way  to  the  navigable 
portion  of  its  waters  in  Sze  Chuen  is,  save  here  and  there, 
still  unexplored.  In  the  eastern  half  of  Sze  Chuen  it  re- 
ceives the  drainage  of  another  large  area,  before  entering 
the  country  commonly  known  as  the  Ichang  Gorges,  and 
on  leaving  the  Gorges  its  arms  spread  north  and  south 
from  the  Yellow  River  to  the  Canton  province,  affording 
easily  navigable  routes  through  the  heart  of  China,  and  by 
the  Grand  Canal  to  Tientsin. 

One  of  the  largest  rivers  in  the  world,  its  importance 
to  China  as  a  waterway  in  some  of  the  wealthiest  and  most 
thickly  populated  provinces  of  the  empire  completely  over- 
shadows all  the  other  river-systems  of  the  country. 

The  actual  length  of  the  Yangtse  Chiang  is  at  present 
unknown.  The  navigable  portion,  /'.  *.,  to  Ping-shan 
Hsien,  is  1,550  miles.  West  of  Ping-shan  Hsien  the  river 


114  THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG 

attains  its  extreme  southern  and  northern  limits ;  but  from 
a  careful  measurement  made  for  me  of  the  best  maps  owned 
by  the  Royal  Geographical  Society,  its  entire  length  is  not 
much  more  than  3,000  miles.  The  area  of  drainage  is 
probably  between  650,000  and  700,000  square  miles. 

Between  the  Tangla  Mountains,  whose  south  slopes 
drain  into  the  Tsang-po  and  the  Salwin  Rivers,  and  the 
Kuenlun  Mountains,  which  form  the  south  buttress  of  the 
Tsaidam  steppes,  the  Yangtse  Chiang,  even  at  its  source 
near  the  goth  meridian,  draws  on  a  basin  nearly  240 
miles  in  depth  from  north  to  south.  Below  the  con- 
fluence of  the  three  main  streams  this  basin  is  somewhat 
contracted  by  the  north-west  south-east  trend  of  the  Baian 
Kara  range,  and  the  river  is  gradually  deflected  southwards. 
From  the  ggth  meridian  its  course  is  almost  due  south, 
passing  through  the  country  of  the  Tanguts,  or  St.  Fans, 
until  at  last  it  enters  China. 

This  part  of  its  course  is,  roughly  speaking,  parallel  with 
the  Mekong  and  Salwin  Rivers.  Penned  in  by  high  moun- 
tains, which  form  an  extension  of  the  great  plateau  of 
Central  Asia,  these  rivers  continue  in  close  proximity  to 
each  other  for  nearly  two  hundred  miles. 

The  immense  depth  of  the  gorges  through  which  the 
Yangtse  Chiang  has  cut  its  way  in  Yun  Nan  and  west  Sze 
Chuen,  and  the  extraordinary  freaks  played  by  its  tributaries 
on  the  right  bank,  have  prevented  the  course  of  the  Yangtse 
Chiang  below  the  Ya-lung  from  being  thoroughly  ascer- 
tained. Its  course,  as  laid  down  by  the  Jesuits,  appears  to 
have  been  mainly  mere  guesswork,  and  some  corrections  have 
recently  been  made.  Apparently  it  here  attains  its  lowest 
latitude — 26°  north.  The  strength  of  the  stream  and  the 
height  of  the  banks  above  the  river  prevent  much  use  being 


THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG  1 15 

made  of  it  for  boat  traffic,  even  in  the  few  portions  where  no 
dangers  exist.  The  grandness  of  these  gorges  culminates 
in  the  "  Sunbridge,"  Tai-yang-chiao,  a  mountain  at  least 
20,000  feet  high,  "  which  falls  to  the  Yangtse  Chiang  in 
a  series  of  terraces,  which  from  below  appear  like  parallel 
ridges,  and  abuts  on  the  river  into  a  precipice  or  precipices, 
which  must  be  8,000  feet  above  its  waters.  The  main 
affluent  on  the  right  bank  received  in  this  part  of  its  course 
is  the  Niu-lan  River,  the  gorges  of  which  are  also  very 
grand. 

Ping-shan  is  generally  regarded  as  the  head  of  continu- 
ous navigation,  but  Mr.  Hosie  descended  the  river  by 
boat  from  Man-i-sau,  forty  //  higher  up. 

The  Fu-ling,  Chien  Chiang,  Kung-t'an  or  Wu-chiang, 
which  joins  the  Yangtse  Chiang  at  Fu-Chau  on  the  right 
bank,  is  the  last  considerable  tributary  received  before  reach- 
ing the  gorges  leading  to  Ichang.  This  river  is  important 
as  the  first  of  the  streams  which  form  the  great  network  of 
water-communication  which  binds  Peking  and  Canton  with 
Central  China.  By  the  Fu-ling  Canton  can  be  reached 
with  only  two  short  portages,  and  a  certain  amount  of  trade 
with  Hankau  is  carried  on  by  this  and  the  Yuan  River  in 
preference  to  taking  goods  up  the  Yangtse  Chiang. 

The  gorges  which  have  shut  in  the  Yangtse  Chiang  almost 
from  its  source  close  in  upon  it  again  below  Fu-Chau,  and 
continue  to  within  a  few  miles  of  Ichang,  contracting  the 
river  at  one  or  two  points  to  a  width  of  150  yards. 

In  the  autumn  of  1896,  some  forty  miles  below  Wan 
Hsien,  a  landslip  occurred,  which  carried  down  into 
the  river  a  portion  of  the  mountainside,  estimated  by 
Mr.  Bourne  at  700  yards  by  400  yards.  This  at  present 
forms  a  complete  obstacle  to  any  hope  of  steam  navigation 


Il6  THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG 

between  Ichang  and  Chung-King,  and  is  much  more  formi- 
dable than  the  Yeh-tan,  Hsin-tan,  or  any  of  the  other  rapids 
which  had  hitherto  been  in  question.  The  Ching-tan,  or 
Hsin-tan,  was  similarly  formed  some  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago,  and  it  is  probable,  therefore,  that  other  rapids 
originated  in  the  same  way. 

Many  rivers  are  received  on  either  bank  before  Ichang  is 
reached,  of  which  the  most  important  is  the  Ching-Chiang, 
which  enters  the  Yangtse  Chiang  on  the  right  bank  below 
Ichang. 

At  Sha-shih,  the  port  of  Chong-Chau  Fu,  the  character  of 
the  country  changes,  and  an  extensive  embankment  thirty 
feet  high,  and  from  seventy  feet  to  three  hundred  feet  wide  at 
the  base,  is  necessary  to  protect  the  country  from  inundation. 
The  inland  water  communication  extending  from  Ching- 
chau  to  Hankau,  on  the  east,  and  connecting  with  the 
higher  parts  of  the  Han  River,  exposes  an  immense  area  to 
suffering  from  floods,  and  the  city  itself  was  almost  destroyed 
on  one  occasion  by  freshets  in  the  inland  waters.  The 
facilities  of  communication  afforded  by  these  routes  make 
Sha-shih  a  centre  of  great  commercial  value,  for,  independent 
of  the  great  highway  of  the  Yangtse  Chiang  and  of  the 
canals  already  mentioned,  there  are  also  two  large  canals  on 
the  right  bank  of  the  river  connecting  with  the  Tung-ting 
Lake. 

Driven  onwards  by  the  immense  pressure  from  behind,  the 
waters  of  the  Yangtse  Chiang,  though  moving  in  an  almost 
perfect  plane,  have  an  average  surface  current  throughout 
the  year  of  two  knots  at  Hankau,  where  the  river  is  1,450 
yards  broad,  and  has  an  average  depth  of  forty-two  feet.  In 
their  course  to  the  sea,  the  entrance  to  the  Poyang  Lake  is 
almost  the  only  place  below  Wuhsueh  at  which  a  passenger 


THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG  1 17 

on  a  steamer  can  detect  the  influx  of  any  other  river.  The 
main  river,  its  tributaries,  and  the  inland  canals  all  form  a 
part  of  one  great  network,  which  proclaims  the  delta  of 
the  river.  The  rivers  of  East  Hu  Peh,  North  Kiang  Si, 
An  Hui,  and  Kiang  Su,  which  enter  the  Yangtse  Chiang, 
are  very  scarcely  recognizable  as  fresh  contributions.  Even 
the  waters  of  the  Yellow  River  drained  into  the  Yangtse 
Chiang  in  1889  without  for  some  time  exciting  any  com- 
ment on  the  addition  to  its  volume. 

The  coal  fields  of  Hu  Nan  have  of  late  concentrated  at- 
tention on  the  Tung-ting  Lake  and  the  valley  of  the  Hsaing 
as  the  future  trade  route  between  South  and  Central  China ; 
but  until  recently  the  valley  of  the  Kan,  which  is  navigable 
by  boat  from  near  the  Mei-ling  Pass  on  the  frontier  of 
Kwang-Tung  to  the  Poyang  Lake,  was  the  great  official 
waterway  from  Canton  to  Peking. 

The  Shu  or  Chin  Chiang,  which  passes  Nan-Chang-Fu 
to  the  north-west  of  the  lake,  and  the  Chin  or  Chin-Chia 
Chiang,  which  descends  from  Kwang-Hsin-Fu  on  the 
north-east,  are  the  largest  of  the  other  rivers  which  drain 
into  the  Poyang  Lake,  but  part  of  the  waters  of  Hui- 
chu-Fu  in  An  Hui  are  also  received  by  it,  and  it  is  note- 
worthy how  many  routes  exist  through  the  mountains  on  the 
east  to  the  Che  Kiang  and  Fu  Kein. 

The  lake,  which  is  reported  to  be  1,800  square  miles  in 
extent,  acts,  like  the  Tung-ting  Lake,  as  a  great  reservoir 
to  check  inundations. 

On  leaving  Kiang  Si  and  entering  An  Hui,  the  river  at 
Wuhu  reaches  the  point  where  a  branch  in  olden  days 
made  its  way  southwards  to  the  Chien-tang  Gulf,  near 
Hang-Chau  Fu.  Its  course  is  conjectured  to  have  been 
through  a  series  of  lagoons,  known  in  ancient  times  as  the 


Il8  THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG 

five  lakes  (the  Chen-tse)  and  its  delta  is  presumed  not  to 
have  extended  further  east  than  the  Lang-shan  Hills,  but 
the  whole  subject  has  been  a  fertile  source  of  controversy. 
Another  branch  must  have  passed  by  Sung-kiang  Fu,  and 
thence  near  to  Shanghai.  The  south  bank  of  the  present 
course  of  the  river  seems  to  give  indications  that  its  bed 
was  in  former  days  on  a  higher  level  than  now,  but  at  the 
present  day  it  is  only  by  embankments  that  the  Yangtse 
Chiang  is  prevented  from  finding  a  way  for  some  of  its 
surplus  waters  by  the  Tai  Hu  and  Su-chau  to  the  sea. 

The  area  of  the  Tai-Hu  and  the  other  lakes  in  the 
southern  delta  of  the  Yangtse  Chiang  has  been  estimated  at 
i, 200  square  miles  (out  of  a  total  area  of  5,400  square 
miles),  and  the  total  length  of  the  small  channels  used  for 
irrigation  and  navigation  at  36,000  miles.  But  these  figures 
are  based  upon  imperfect  maps  of  the  country,  and  there- 
fore not  thoroughly  trustworthy. 

On  the  north  bank  of  the  river  an  even  more  marvel- 
lous system  of  artificial  waterworks  exists.  The  Huai 
River,  which,  with  its  seventy-two  tributaries,  is  a  most  im- 
portant commercial  route  to  north  An  Hui  and  Ho  Nan, 
used  to  find  a  natural  course  to  the  sea  to  the  south  of  Shan 
Tung,  but  has  been  diverted  by  a  double  series  of  lakes  and 
innumerable  canals,  and  has  now  no  existence  as  a  river 
east  of  the  Grand  Canal.  The  enlargement  of  some  lakes 
and  the  excavations  of  others  were  carried  out  with  a  view 
to  preventing  too  great  a  pressure  on  any  one  point  of  the 
Grand  Canal  south  of  the  old  course  of  the  Yellow  River. 
The  greater  part  of  the  Huai  now  finds  its  way  to  the 
Yangtse  Chiang  through  different  openings  in  a  large  canal, 
which  runs  almost  parallel  with  the  river  for  a  distance  of 
140  miles.  North  of  this  canal  lies  an  immense  parallel- 


THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG  119 

ogram,  estimated  by  Pere  Gandar  at  2,300,000  hectares 
8,876  square  miles)  in  extent,  which  is  below  the  water- 
level.  This  is  intersected  by  a  series  of  waterways  kept 
under  the  most  careful  control,  and  constitutes  one  of  the 
most  valuable  rice  fields  in  the  country.  To  protect  it 
from  inundations  by  the  sea,  immense  dykes  and  a  large 
canal  stretch  north  and  south  between  the  Yangtse  Chiang 
and  the  old  course  of  the  Yellow  River.  Through  these 
dykes  are  eighteen  openings  for  canals  to  the  sea,  but  the 
main  drainage  is  southwards  to  the  Yangtse  Chiang.  Be- 
tween the  dykes  and  the  sea  lie  the  flats  which  form  the 
great  salt-fields  of  Central  China. 

The  Yangtse  Chiang  in  its  lower  reaches  is  subject  to 
great  and  rapid  changes,  of  which  little  trace  is  evident  to 
the  eye  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  years,  though  the  depth  of 
the  river  in  many  parts  is  140  feet  and  more.  One  of  the 
most  notable  instances  is  at  Chin-Kiang.  The  earliest 
European  travellers  to  Peking  by  the  Grand  Canal  speak 
invariably  of  the  city  of  Kua  Chau,  and  only  incidentally 
refer  to  the  passage  of  the  Yangtse  Chiang.  At  present 
the  nearest  entrances  to  the  northern  and  southern  portions 
of  the  Grand  Canal  are  miles  apart ;  the  passage  between 
them,  along  the  waters  of  the  Yangtse  Chiang,  is  often 
tedious  and  sometimes  impracticable.  But  at  the  time  the 
southern  entrance  to  the  canal  was  by  a  canal  which  ran 
between  Chin-Kiang  and  the  river,  and  debouched  opposite 
Golden  Island,  which  was  within  hailing  distance  of  Kua 
Chau. 

When  our  fleet  ascended  the  Yangtse  Chiang  in  1842, 
it  was  to  the  south  of  this  island  that  it  passed.  Now  to 
the  south  of  "  the  island  "  is  cultivated  land,  studded  with 
trees  and  villages,  and  the  only  existing  canal  south  of 


120  THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG 

Golden  Island  is  so  shallow  as  to  be  in  winter  not  navi- 
gable even  to  boats.  On  the  north  of  the  so-called  island 
(Golden  Island)  the  city  of  Kua  Chau  has  been  completely 
engulfed,  and  even  its  north  wall  has  long  since  been  lost 
to  sight. 

The  changes  which  are  taking  place  in  the  lower  reaches 
of  the  river,  in  the  formation  of  islands  and  the  alteration 
of  channels,  are  on  an  even  larger  scale.  One  of  the  best- 
known  instances  is  the  island  of  Tsungming,  near  Shanghai, 
the  population  which  rose  from  12,700  families  at  the  end 
of  the  Thirteenth  Century  to  89,000  at  the  beginning  of  the 
Eighteenth,  and  is  now  estimated  at  1,150,000  souls. 

The  great  river  known  to  Europeans  throughout  its 
whole  length  as  the  Yangtse,  or  Yangtse  Chiang,  from  the 
name  which  it  bears  on  Chinese  maps  in  its  tidal  portion 
only,  undergoes  many  a  change  of  name.  In  its  higher 
waters  in  Tibet,  the  Murus,  or  Mur-usu,  or  Murui-osu 
("  Tortuous  River ")  joins  the  Napchitai-ulan-muren  and 
Tokton-ai-ulan-muren,  and  below  their  confluence  the 
river  is  known  as  the  Dre-chu,  or  Di-chu,  variations  of 
which  have  reached  us  through  different  travellers  in  Bichu, 
Bicui,  Brichu,  and  the  Brius  of  Marco  Polo.  Its  Tibetan 
name  is  Link-arab,  and  the  Chinese  name  Tung-tien-ho. 
Where  the  river  forms  the  boundary  between  Tibet  and 
China,  it  is  called  by  Chinese  the  Chin  (or  Kin)  Sha 
Chiang,  and  by  the  Tibetans  the  N'geh-chu ;  near  the  con- 
fluence of  the  Yalung  it  is  called  the  Pai-Shui-Chiang,  or 
White  Water  River;  and  as  far  as  Sui  Fu  (or  Sii-chu  Fu) 
the  Chin  Ho.  In  the  gorges  of  Ichang  it  is  the  Ta-ch'a 
Ho  (river  of  great  debris).  At  Sha-shih  it  has  the  name  of 
Ching  Chiang,  from  Ching,  an  ancient  Division  of  China, 
through  which  it  passes.  Below  Hankau  it  is  called  the 


THE  YANGTSE  CHIANG  121 

Chiang,  Ch'ang  Chiang  (Long  River)  Ta  Chiang,  or  Ta- 
Kuan-Chiang  (Great  Official  River),  and  for  the  last  two 
hundred  miles  of  its  course  it  appears  as  the  Yangtse 
Chiang,  a  name  which  it  gains  from  Yang,  another  of  the 
ancient  divisions  of  the  empire,  and  which  is  still  retained 
by  Yang-chau-Fu. 

The  fall  of  the  river  is  very  rapid.  Mr.  Rockhill  assigns 
an  altitude  of  1 3,000  feet  to  the  place  where  he  first  crossed 
it,  some  distance  below  the  junction  of  the  Mur-usu  with 
the  Napchitai  and  Toktonai  Rivers,  and  of  12,000  feet  to 
the  ferry  where  he  recrossed  it  eighty-four  miles  lower 
down.  From  Batang  (8,540  feet)  to  Wa-Wu,  in  Sze 
Chuen  (1,900  feet),  the  fall  was  estimated  by  Mr.  Baber  at 
not  less  than  eight  feet  per  mile ;  thence  to  Huang-kuo-shu 
(1,200  feet)  at  six  feet  per  mile;  below  this  to  Ping-shan 
(1,025  feet)  about  three  feet;  and  from  Ping-shan  to 
Chung-Ching  (630  feet)  approximately  nineteen  inches, 
and  in  its  lower  course  less  than  six  inches.  The  fall  be- 
tween Chung-Ching  and  Ichang  (129  feet)  is  about  thirteen 
and  a  half  inches ;  thence  to  Hankau  (fifty-three  feet)  only 
two  and  a  half  inches,  and  from  Hankau  to  the  sea  little 
more  than  one  inch  per  mile. 


THE  THAMES 

CHARLES  DICKENS,  JR. 

A  LTHOUGH  scarcely  any  of  the  scenery  of  the 
JT\.  Thames  above  Oxford  is  to  be  mentioned  in  the 
same  breath  with  the  beauties  of  Nuneham,  of  Henley,  of 
Marlow,  or  of  Cliveden,  there  is  still  much  to  attract  the 
lover  of  nature  who  is  content  with  quiet  and  pastoral  land- 
scapes and  to  whom  the  peaceful  solitude  through  which  the 
greater  part  of  the  journey  lies,  will  have  a  peculiar  charm. 
It  is  not  advisable  to  take  boat  at  Cricklade.  For  some 
distance  below  this  little  Wiltshire  town  the  stream  is  nar- 
row, and  in  dry  seasons  uncomfortably  shallow.  Travel- 
lers, therefore,  who  come  to  Cricklade,  with  the  intention 
of  seeing  as  much  of  the  river  as  possible,  may  be  recom- 
mended to  take  the  very  pretty  walk  of  about  ten  miles 
along  the  towing-path  of  the  Thames  and  Severn  Canal  to 
Lechlade.  Here  the  river  proper  may  be  said  to  begin. 
Half  a  mile  after  leaving  Lechlade  on  the  right  is  St.  John's 
Lock  with  an  average  fall  of  three  feet ;  and  just  below  it 
is  the  St.  John's  Bridge,  with  the  Trout  Inn  on  the  left 
bank.  For  some  distance  below  this  stream  is  very  nar- 
row, and  generally  weedy ;  and,  after  passing  Buscot 
Church,  a  couple  of  sharp  turns  brings  us  on  the  left  to 
Buscot  Lock.  A  couple  of  miles  lower  down  is  the  little 
village  of  Eaton  Hastings ;  Faringdon  Hill,  with  its  large 
clump  of  Scotch  firs  being  a  conspicuous  object  on  the 


THE  THAMES  123 

right  bank  and  two  miles  further  again  is  Radcot  Bridge, 
distant  from  Oxford  twenty-six  miles.  The  next  point  is 
Old  Man's  Bridge,  twenty-five  miles  from  Oxford,  and  af- 
ter about  two  miles  of  rather  monotonous  travelling,  we 
come  sharp  on  the  left  to  Rushy  Lock  and  a  mile  further 
to  Tadpole  Bridge,  twenty-two  miles  from  Oxford,  with 
the  Trout  Inn,  a  convenient  place  for  luncheon.  About  a 
couple  of  miles  from  Tadpole  is  Ten  Foot  Bridge  and  a 
mile  or  so  lower  down  are  the  village  and  ferry  of  Duxford. 
A  mile  or  so  below  this  there  is  considerable  shoaling  and 
half  a  mile  further  an  island  with  Poplars,  where  the  Berks 
bank  should  be  followed.  After  making  two  or  three  bends, 
beyond  this  point,  there  is  a  prettily  wooded  bank  on  the 
right,  and  a  short  mile  of  capital  water  for  rowing  brings  us 
to  New  Bridge  from  Oxford  fifteen  miles,  which,  notwith- 
standing its  name,  is  of  great  antiquity.  Another  mile 
brings  us  to  the  bridge  where  was  formerly  Langley's  or 
Ridge's  Weir.  About  four  and  a  half  miles  from  New 
Bridge  is  Bablock  Hithe  Ferry,  ten  and  a  half  miles  from 
Oxford,  below  which  there  is  a  fine  stream,  the  scenery  be- 
coming very  good,  with  fine  bold  hills  and  the  Earl  of 
Abingdon's  woods  at  Wytham.  After  passing  Skinner's 
Weir,  the  river  twists  and  turns  about  a  good  deal  until  we 
reach  Pinkhill  Lock,  eight  and  a  half  miles  from  Oxford, 
with  a  fall  of  about  three  feet.  Round  a  good  many 
corners  and  rather  more  than  a  mile  off  is  Eynsham  Bridge. 
Good  reaches  for  about  three  miles  bring  us  to  King's 
Weir,  sharp  on  the  right,  the  stream  to  the  left  going  to 
the  Duke's  Lock,  the  junction  with  the  Oxford  Canal. 
Passing  presently  under  Godstow  Bridge,  are  seen  the 
ruins  of  Godstow  Nunnery  and  Godstow  Lock,  three 
and  a  half  miles  from  Oxford,  on  leaving  which  a  pretty 


124  THE  THAMES 

view  of  the  city  is  obtained.     Three  hundred  yards  further 
is  Osney  Lock.     A  little  further  is  Folly  Bridge,  Oxford. 

The  towing-path  after  leaving  Folly  Bridge,  Oxford, 
follows  the  right  bank.  On  the  left  are  the  boat-rafts  and 
the  barges  of  the  various  colleges  moored  off  Christ  Church 
Meadows,  where  in  the  winter,  after  a  flood,  there  is  some- 
times capital  skating.  About  three-quarters  of  a  mile  from 
Folly  Bridge  are  the  long  bridges  across  a  backwater,  which 
reenters  the  Thames — in  this  part  of  its  course  sometimes 
called  the  Isis — half  a  mile  below  Iffley.  Half  a  mile  be- 
low Iffley  is  the  iron  bridge  of  the  Great  Western  Railway, 
from  beneath  which  is  a  very  pretty  view  of  the  spires  of 
Oxford,  particularly  of  the  tower  of  Magdalen  College. 
Along  the  left  bank  for  some  distance  is  one  of  those  grand 
pieces  of  woodland  scenery  for  which  the  Thames  is  so  re- 
nowned. The  woods  extend  as  far  as  the  iron  railway 
bridge,  after  passing  which  the  spire  of  Abingdon  church 
appears  above  the  trees  to  the  right.  Rather  more  than  a 
mile  below  the  cottages  at  Nuneham  is  the  fall  on  the  left 
where  the  old  and  present  channels  divide.  Half  a  mile 
further  and  sharp  to  the  left  is  Abingdon  Lock,  average  fall 
six  feet,  from  London  104^  miles,  from  Oxford  seven  and 
one-quarter  miles.  The  river  here  runs  through  flat  mead- 
ows. The  view  of  Abingdon,  with  the  spire  of  St.  Helen's, 
is  very  pretty.  Culham  Lock,  a  good  stone  lock  with  an 
average  fall  of  seven  feet ;  Clifton  Lock  with  an  average 
fall  of  three  feet ;  and  Days  Lock  with  an  average  fall  of 
four  feet  six  inches,  are  passed.  A  little  over  a  mile  on  the 
left  bank  is  Dorchester  with  its  famous  abbey  church. 
The  footpath  crosses  the  Roman  remains  known  as  The 
Dyke  Hills.  On  Sinodun  Hill  on  the  right  is  a  fine  Ro- 
man camp.  Below  the  ferry  on  the  right  is  Bensington 


THE  THAMES  125 

Lock,  with  an  average  fall  of  six  feet  six  inches.  The 
country  from  here  to  Wallingford  is  charmingly  wooded. 

Wallingford,  from  London  ninety  and  three-quarter  miles, 
from  Oxford  twenty  and  three-quarter  miles  is  a  very  con- 
venient place  to  break  the  journey,  and  the  breakfasts  and 
ale  at  the  "  Lamb  "  deserve  particular  attention.  From 
Cleeve  Lock  there  is  a  lovely  view  of  the  hills  and  woods 
above  Streatley.  Goring  Lock  is  a  favourite  place  for 
campers.  Further  on  to  the  right  are  Basildon  church  and 
village  and  further  still,  opposite  the  beech  woods  and  on 
the  brow  of  the  hill  to  the  right  is  Basildon  Park.  At  this 
point  a  fine  stretch  of  water  runs  almost  in  a  straight  line 
for  a  considerable  distance  j  the  banks  on  either  side  are 
well  wooded,  and  the  view  up  or  down  is  one  of  the  most 
sylvan  on  the  river.  Just  before  making  the  bend  before 
Pangbourne  Reach  is  Coombe  Lodge  with  its  beautiful 
park,  and  at  the  end  of  the  chalk  ridge  on  the  right  is  Pang- 
bourne,  from  London  eighty  and  three-quarter  miles,  from 
Oxford  thirty  and  three-quarter  miles. 

Below  Whitchurch  Lock  a  wooden  bridge  connects 
Whitchurch  and  Pangbourne,  and  at  its  foot  is  the  pretty 
house  known  as  Thames  Bank.  After  leaving  Maple- 
durham  Lock  on  the  right,  there  is  a  charming  view. 
Caversham  Bridge,  the  nearest  point  for  Reading,  and 
Caversham  Lock,  Sonning  Lock  and  Sonning  Shiplake 
Lock  and  Wargrave  and  Marsh  Lock  bring  us  distant  from 
London  sixty-six  miles. 

A  mile  from  Marsh  Lock  we  come  to  Henley.  A  hand- 
some bridge  spans  the  river  here  ;  the  tow-path  crosses  to 
the  right  bank.  A  short  half  mile  below  greenlands  on 
the  right  is  Hambleden  Lock.  At  the  next  bend  in  the 
river  the  red  brick  house  on  the  right  is  Culham  Court, 


126  THE  THAMES 

and  here  the  view  up  the  river  to  the  poplars  and  wooded 
hills  above  Hambleden  is  very  charming.  Passing  Culham 
keep  to  the  left  bank,  leaving  the  island  known  as  Magpie 
Island  on  the  right.  Half  a  mile  farther,  on  the  top  of  the 
high  wooded  hill  on  the  left,  is  a  farmhouse  on  a  site  where 
has  been  a  farm  since  Domesday  Book  was  compiled. 
Two  miles  from  the  lock  is  Medmenham  Abbey,  with  the 
Abbey  Hotel,  a  well-known  and  convenient  place  for  water- 
parties. 

On  the  right  bank  at  Hurley  Lock  is  the  village  of 
Hurley  with  Lady  Place,  so  well  known  in  connection 
with  Lord  Lovelace  in  the  revolution  of  1688.  About 
half  a  mile  further  is  Marlow,  with  its  graceful  suspension 
bridge  and  ugly  church.  Three  hundred  yards  below  the 
bridge  is  Marlow  Lock.  Another  three-quarters  of  a  mile 
brings  us  to  Cookham.  Cookham  Lock  is  the  most  beauti- 
fully situated  on  the  river,  just  under  the  woods  of  Hedsor 
and  Cliveden.  The  scenery  down  the  next  reach  and  past 
the  islands  is  exceedingly  beautiful  and  is  generally  con- 
sidered the  finest  on  the  river.  Not  quite  two  and  a  half 
miles  from  Cookham  Lock  is  Boulter's  Lock,  from  London 
fifty  miles. 

Below  Maidenhead  Bridge  is  the  Great  Western  Rail- 
way bridge,  supposed  to  be  the  largest  brick  bridge  in  the 
world.  A  mile  from  Maidenhead  is  the  pleasant  village  of 
Bray.  Rather  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  on  the  left 
is  Bray  Lock.  Half  a  mile  further  is  Monkey  Island,  and 
here  for  a  little  distance  there  is  a  good  stream.  Two 
miles  and  a  half  from  Bray  Lock,  on  the  right  bank,  is 
Surly  Hall,  an  inn  well  known  to  Etonians.  About 
another  half  mile  brings  us  to  Boveney  Lock  on  the  left. 
On  the  right  is  Windsor  racecourse,  and  three-quarters 


THE  THAMES  I2J 

of  a  mile  down  is  Athens,  the  bathing-place  of  the  senior 
Eton  boys.  The  Great  Western  Railway  bridge  and  the 
Brocas  clump  on  the  left  are  next  passed,  and  we  arrive 
at  Windsor  on  the  right  bank  and  Eton  on  the  left.  The 
river  is  here  crossed  by  an  iron  and  stone  bridge  of  three 
arches.  After  passing  through  Windsor  bridge,  the  right 
bank  on  which  is  the  tow-path  should  be  kept.  The  rapid 
and  dangerous  stream  to  the  left  runs  to  the  weir  and  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  Cobbler,  as  the  long  projection  from 
the  island  is  called,  is  undesirable  when  there  is  much 
water  in  the  river.  Not  half  a  mile  below  Windsor  bridge 
is  Romney  Lock.  After  passing  through  Romney  Lock, 
beautiful  views  of  Eton  College,  the  playing-fields  and 
Poet's  walk  are  obtained  on  the  left,  and  on  the  right  are 
Windsor  Castle  and  the  Home  Park.  Farther  down  is 
the  Victoria  Bridge,  one  of  two  which  cross  the  river  at 
each  extremity  of  the  park,  and  about  a  mile  and  a  half 
from  Romney  Lock  is  Datchet  on  the  left  bank.  After 
the  second  of  the  royal  bridges,  the  Albert,  is  passed,  the 
right  bank  must  be  kept,  and  a  long  narrow  cut  crossed 
half  way  by  a  wooden  bridge  leads  to  Old  Windsor  Lock. 
Three-quarters  of  a  mile  from  the  lock,  in  pretty  scenery, 
is  the  well-known  "  Bells  of  Ousely  "  tavern.  Half  a  mile 
farther  down  Magna  Charta  Island,  with  its  cottage  is  on 
the  left.  Runny  mead  is  on  the  right  bank,  which  should 
be  followed  to  Bell  Weir  Lock. 

The  Colne  enters  the  Thames  on  the  left  between  Bell 
Weir  Lock  and  Staines.  Two  or  three  hundred  yards  farther 
are  Staines  Bridge  and  the  town  of  Staines.  After  Penton 
Hook  Lock  about  one  and  three-quarter  miles  from  Staines 
is  Laleham  and  the  ferry.  Still  keeping  to  the  left  bank, 
we  next  come  to  Chertsey  Lock.  Hence  the  river  winds 


128  THE  THAMES 

very  much  between  flat  banks  to  Shepperton  Lock  on  the 
left.  Here  the  Wey  enters  the  Thames.  Three-quarters 
of  a  mile  below  Halliford  are  Coway  or  Causeway  Stakes, 
and  immediately  afterwards  comes  Walton  Bridge  which 
consists  of  four  arches.  On  the  right  below  is  Mount 
Felix  and  the  village  of  Walton.  Half  a  mile  on  the  left 
is  a  tumbling  bay,  whose  neighbourhood  will  best  be 
avoided,  and  half  a  mile  below  this  on  the  right,  is  the 
cut  leading  to  Sunbury  Lock.  About  one  and  a  half 
miles  below  the  lock  is  an  island,  either  side  of  which  may 
be  taken.  On  the  right  are  Molesey  Hurst  and  race- 
course and  on  the  left,  Hampton.  Here  is  a  ferry,  and 
on  the  left  bank  below  the  church  Garrick's  Villa.  Below 
Molesey  Lock  is  Hampton  Court  Bridge,  an  ugly  iron 
erection,  Hampton  Court  being  on  the  left  and  East 
Molesey,  with  the  railway  station,  on  the  right.  Nearly 
a  mile  below  the  bridge,  on  the  right,  is  Thames  Ditton. 
Passing  Messenger's  Island  we  come  to  Surbiton,  and 
nearly  a  mile  lower  down  to  Kingston  Bridge.  The  next 
point  is  Teddington  Lock.  On  the  left  Teddington  and 
an  almost  uninterrupted  line  of  villas  extends  along  the 
bank  as  far  as  Twickenham.  There  is  an  iron  foot  bridge 
from  Teddington  to  the  lock.  About  a  mile  from  the 
lock  is  Eel  Pie  Island,  opposite  which  are  Petersham,  and 
Ham  House,  the  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Dysart,  almost  hidden 
among  the  trees.  On  the  left  is  Orleans  House,  and  down 
the  river  rises  Richmond  Hill,  crowned  with  the  famous 
"  Star  and  Garter."  Making  the  bend  just  below  the  next 
island  is,  on  the  right  bank,  the  ivy-clad  residence  of  the 
Duke  of  Buccleuch.  Not  quite  three  miles  from  Tedding- 
ton Lock  is  Richmond  Bridge.  A  short  distance  below 
the  Bridge  is  Richmond  Lock,  ninety-six  and  a  half  miles 


THE  THAMES  1 29 

from  Oxford  and  fifteen  and  a  half  miles  from  London. 
The  trip  is  generally  concluded  here,  the  banks  of  the 
river  below  this  point  presenting  little  or  nothing  to  attract 
the  visitor. 

Passing  Isleworth,  Sion  House,  the  seat  of  the  Duke  of 
Northumberland,  Brentford,  Kew  with  its  Palace,  Church 
and  Observatory,  the  famous  Kew  Gardens,  Chiswick  and 
Chiswick  Eyot  (famous  for  its  swans),  we  arrive  at  Ham- 
mersmith with  its  long  bridge,  opened  in  June,  1887,  and 
are  practically  in  London.  From  here  we  note  Fulham 
Episcopal  Palace,  the  summer  home  of  the  Bishops  of  Lon- 
don who  have  been  lords  of  the  manor  from  an  early  date, 
Putney,  Hurlingham  House,  Wandesworth,  Battersea  Park, 
Chelsea  and  its  iron  bridge,  Vauxhall,  Lambeth  Palace,  the 
London  residence  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  West- 
minster Bridge,  the  Houses  of  Parliament  and  Westminster 
Abbey,  Charing  Cross  Railway  Bridge,  the  Victoria  Em- 
bankment with  Cleopatra's  Needle,  Waterloo  Bridge, 
Somerset  House,  The  Temple  Gardens,  Blackfriar's  Bridge, 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral,  Southwark  Bridge,  St.  Saviour's  and 
come  to  London  Bridge,  opened  by  King  W'illiam  IV.  and 
Queen  Adelaide  in  1831.  Here  old  London  Bridge  stood 
for  more  than  six  hundred  years,  a  quaint  structure  adorned 
"  with  sumptuous  buildings  and  statelie  and  beautiful  houses 
on  either  syde  "  ;  and  at  the  gatehouse  of  the  bridge  the 
heads  of  traitors  were  exposed.  On  leaving  London  Bridge 
we  enter  the  Pool,  which  extends  to  Limehouse  and  is  di- 
vided into  the  Upper  and  Lower  Pool  by  an  imaginary 
line  drawn  across  the  Thames  at  Wapping.  The  Pool  is 
always  crowded  with  steamers,  sailing-vessels  and  barges. 
On  the  left  bank  stands  The  Monument,  commemorating 
the  Great  Fire  of  1666,  which  began  in  the  house  of  the 


130  THE  THAMES 

King's  baker  in  Pudding  Lane.  Not  far  from  it  is  Bil- 
lingsgate Fish  Market,  then  follows  the  Custom  House  and 
the  massive,  solemn  and  impressive  Tower.  Tower 
Bridge,  the  foundation  stone  for  which  was  laid  in  1886,  is 
passed,  below  which  begin  the  great  docks.  Wapping  Old 
Stairs,  made  classic  by  Dibdin's  song,  and  Shadwell  are 
passed  before  we  leave  the  Pool  and  enter  Limehouse 
Reach. 

The  Thames  now  bends  to  the  south  and  we  pass  the 
great  West  India  docks,  the  wall  of  which  includes  an  area 
of  nearly  three  hundred  acres.  We  pass  Greenwich,  fam- 
ous for  its  Hospital  (the  old  Palace),  Observatory  and  Park, 
after  which  the  river  takes  a  northerly  course.  Woolwich 
with  its  Arsenal  and  Barracks,  Shooter's  Hill,  from  which 
a  fine  view  of  London  is  obtained  and  now  the  river  turns 
south,  for  the  Thames  is  a  river  of  many  windings.  At 
length  we  reach  Tilbury  and  its  Docks  and  Gravesend,  and 
here  we  are  at  the  mouth  of  the  river.  The  Midway  enters 
the  Thames  between  the  Isle  of  Grain  and  the  Isle  of 
Sheppey  and  is  now  a  muddy  river  with  nothing  beautiful 
on  either  bank.  Half  way  across  the  estuary,  and  fifty 
miles  from  London  Bridge,  is  the  Nore  Lightship,  established 
in  1730. 


THE  CONNECTICUT 

TIMOTHY  DWIGHT 

CONNECTICUT  RIVER  rises  in  New  Hampshire. 
\^s  Its  fountains  are  between  44°,  50'  and  45°  north 
latitude,  and  nearly  in  71°  west  longitude  from  London  ; 
about  twenty-five  miles  eastward  from  its  channel,  where 
in  the  same  latitude  it  divides  Stuart1  and  Colebrook  from 
Canaan  in  Vermont.  These  fountains,  which  are  at  the 
distance  of  two  or  three  miles  from  each  other,  flow  in  two 
small  converging  rivulets ;  one  of  which  empties  its  waters 
into  a  pond,  covering  about  six  acres,  whence  it  proceeds 
to  a  lake,  which  from  its  resemblance  to  the  numerical  figure 
8,  I  shall  name  Double  Lake.  The  other  rivulet,  also, 
unites  with  the  same  lake ;  which  is  two  miles  long  and 
half  a  mile  wide ;  and  covers  between  five  and  six  hundred 
acres.  Hence  the  waters  flow  in  a  single  channel,  about 
seven  miles,  into  another  lake,  which  from  its  figure  I  shall 
call  Heart  Lake  ; 2  about  six  miles  long  and  three  broad,  and 
covering  between  nine  and  ten  thousand  acres.  From 
Heart  Lake  with  a  material  addition  to  its  current,  the  river 
runs  north-westward  for  four  miles  and  a  half;  and  is  a 
continual  rapid  through  the  whole  distance.  In  one  part 
of  this  reach  it  descends  fifty  feet  in  a  course  of  three  hun- 
dred. Below  the  rapid,  it  receives  from  the  northward  a 
stream  called  Perry's  Brook;  and  a  little  further  down, 

1  Now  Stewartstown.  8  Now  Connecticut  Lake. 


132  THE  CONNECTICUT 

another,  called  Cedar  Brook.  About  two  miles  further  on 
it  receives  another  from  the  south,  called  Dear  Water 
Brook ;  and,  about  a  mile  further,  a  fourth  from  the  north 
called  Back  Brook,  conveying  into  it  the  waters  of  a  small 
lake,  called  Back  Lake.  That  portion  of  the  Connecticut, 
which  is  between  Perry's  Brook  and  Back  Brook,  four 
miles  in  length,  is  named  the  Dead  Water :  the  ground  on 
either  side  being  low  and  level ;  and  the  stream  winding, 
sluggish  and  deep.  After  receiving  the  waters  of  Back 
Brook,  it  runs  for  one  mile  over  a  succession  of  rocks, 
termed  the  Great  Falls ;  in  one  part  of  which  it  descends, 
perpendicularly,  over  a  ledge  twelve  feet. 

Before  its  junction  with  Indian  River,  the  Connecticut 
runs  about  the  same  distance  with  that  stream,  and  dis- 
charges more  than  twice  its  quantity  of  water  into  the  com- 
mon channel.  Hall's  River  is  sensibly  less  than  Indian 
River. 

The  course  of  the  Connecticut  to  Perry's  brook,  between 
twenty-five  and  thirty  miles  is  north-westward ;  thence  to 
the  forty-fifth  degree  of  north  latitude  west-south-west; 
thence  to  the  city  of  Hartford  south-south-west,  and  thence 
to  the  Sound  about  south-east. 

The  length  of  this  river  is  about  four  hundred  and  ten 
miles.  From  Griswold's  point,  in  Lyme,  to  the  forty-fifth 
degree  of  north  latitude,  the  distance  measured  by  its  waters, 
is  about  three  hundred  and  seventy-four ;  and  thence  to  the 
head-waters  from  thirty-five  to  forty.  Its  meanders 
throughout  a  great  part  of  its  course  are  almost  perpetual. 

The  number  of  its  tributary  streams  is  very  great.  The 
waters  which  form  the  Connecticut  are  remarkably  pure 
and  light,  such  as  we  commonly  term  the  best  water  for 
washing.  The  tributary  streams,  almost  without  an  excep- 


THE  CONNECTICUT  1 33 

tion,  issue  from  hills  formed  of  stone,  covered  with  a 
gravelly  soil ;  and  roll  over  a  gravelly  and  stony  bed 
through  their  whole  progress.  The  waters  of  the  parent 
stream  are,  therefore,  everywhere  pure,  potable,  perfectly 
salubrious,  and  inferior  to  none  in  the  world  for  the  use  of 
seamen  in  long  voyages. 

As  a  navigable  water,  this  river  is  inferior  to  many  others 
of  a  smaller  size.  This  is  owing  to  two  causes;  falls  and 
shallows.  The  falls  are  the  following  :  Little  Falls,  Great, 
Indian,  Judd's,  Fifteen-mile,  Lebanon,  Waterqueechy,  Bel- 
low's, Miller's,  South  Hadley,  Enfield. 

The  Fifteen-mile  falls,  Waterqueechy,  and  Enfield,  and 
the  greatest  part  of  the  distance  attributed  to  the  others,  are 
mere  rapids ;  and  there  are  also  other  small  rapids,  which  are 
of  no  consequence. 

The  Valley  of  the  Connecticut  is  a  tract  of  land,  ex- 
tending from  the  Sound  to  Hereford  Mountain ;  five  miles 
beyond  the  forty-fifth  degree  of  latitude.  In  the  largest 
sense  it  includes  the  tract  which  is  bounded  by  the  Lyme 
range  on  the  east,  and  by  a  confused  cluster  of  hills,  com- 
mencing at  the  Sound,  and  terminating  below  Middletown, 
then  by  the  Middletown  range,  then  by  that  of  Mount 
Tom,  and  then  by  that  of  the  Green  Mountains,  on  the 
west.  In  this  sense  it  is  of  very  different  breadths,  from 
five  miles  perhaps  to  forty-five;  and  its  surface  is  com- 
posed of  an  indefinite  succession  of  hills,  valleys  and  plains. 
But  there  is  another  sense  in  which  the  phrase  is  used  with 
more  obvious  propriety  and  in  which  it  denotes  that  portion 
of  this  vast  extent,  which  appears  as  a  valley  to  the  eye, 
moving  in  the  road  along  its  course  from  its  mouth  to  the 
great  bend  in  the  northern  part  of  the  township  of  Stuart. 

The  Valley  of  the  Connecticut  extends  through  almost 


134  THE  CONNECTICUT 

four  degrees  of  latitude,  and  is  bounded  on  the  north  by 
Hereford  Mountain;  a  magnificent  eminence,  ascending 
five  miles  beyond  the  line.  The  superior  limit  of  this 
mountain  is  an  arch  more  gracefully  formed  than  that  of 
any  other  within  my  remembrance.  Its  elevation  is  about 
2,000  feet  above  the  neighbouring  country. 

The  Intervals  on  this  Valley  begin  at  Hall's  River,  about 
twelve  or  fourteen  miles  from  its  mouth.  The  word,  In- 
terval is  used  by  me  in  a  sense  altogether  different  from 
that  which  it  has  in  an  English  Dictionary.  Doctor  Bel- 
knap  spells  it  Intervale,  and  confesses  his  want  of  authority 
for  the  use  of  the  word.  There  is  in  truth  no  such  word ; 
unless  we  are  to  look  for  its  existence  in  vulgar  and  mis- 
taken pronunciation.  Originally,  when  applied  to  this  very 
subject,  it  seems  to  have  meant  nothing  more  than  that  ex- 
tent of  ground  which  lay  between  the  original  bank  of  the 
river  and  the  river  itself. 

This  extent  was  composed  of  land,  peculiar  in  its  form 
and  qualities.  The  English,  so  far  as  I  know,  have  no  ap- 
propriate name  for  grounds  of  this  class.  Whether  such 
lands  exist  on  the  rivers  of  Great  Britain,  I  am  ignorant, 
having  never  seen  any  definite  account  of  them,  or  allusion 
to  them  in  any  book  descriptive  of  the  surface  of  that 
country.  From  the  accounts  of  Sir  John  Sinclair's  Statis- 
tical History  of  Scotland  of  the  lands  on  some  rivers  in  that 
country,  I  should  suppose  that  a  part  of  them  might  be 
Intervals,  yet  they  are  distinguished  by  no  appropriate 
name.  On  some  rivers  in  this  country  there  are  none ; 
and  on  others  very  few.  Wherever  they  exist,  they  are 
objects  of  peculiar  attention  to  farmers  and  subjects  of 
much  customary  conversation.  That  a  name  should  be  given 
to  them,  therefore,  is  a  thing  of  course.  Interval  is  the  name 


THE  CONNECTICUT  135 

which  they  have  accidentally  obtained  in  this  country  j  and 
a  New  Englander  relishes  it  more  than  fats  or  bottoms. 

This  word,  in  its  appropriate  meaning  denotes  lands 
formed  by  a  long  continued  and  gradual  alluvion  of  a  river. 

Beauty  of  landscape  is  an  eminent  characteristic  of  this 
Valley.  From  Hereford  Mountain  to  Saybrook,  it  is 
almost  a  continued  succession  of  delightful  scenery.  No 
other  tract  within  my  knowledge,  and  from  the  extensive  in- 
formation which  I  have  received,  I  am  persuaded  that  no 
other  tract  within  the  United  States  of  the  same  extent  can 
be  compared  to  it,  with  respect  to  those  objects  which 
arrest  the  eye  of  the  painter  and  the  poet.  There  are 
indeed  dull,  uninteresting  spots  in  considerable  numbers. 
These,  however,  are  little  more  than  the  discords  which 
are  generally  regarded  as  necessary  to  perfect  the  harmony. 
The  beauty  and  the  grandeur  are  here  more  varied  than 
elsewhere.  They  return  oftener;  they  are  longer  con- 
tinued; they  are  finished  by  a  hand  operating  in  a  superior 
manner.  A  gentleman 1  of  great  respectability,  who  had 
travelled  in  England,  France  and  Spain,  informed  me,  that 
the  prospects  along  the  Connecticut  excelled  those  on  the 
beautiful  rivers  in  these  three  countries  in  two  great  par- 
ticulars— the  Forests  and  the  Mountains  (he  might,  I  be- 
lieve, have  added  the  Intervals  also)  ;  and  fell  short  of  them 
in  nothing  but  population  and  the  productions  of  art.  It  is 
hardly  necessary  to  observe  that  both  these  are  advancing 
with  a  rapid  step  (perhaps  sufficiently  rapid),  towards  a 
strong  resemblance  to  European  improvement. 

Nor  are  these  grounds  less  distinguished  by  their  beauty. 
The  form  of  most  of  them  is  elegant.  A  river,  passing 
through  them,  becomes  almost  of  course  winding.  As  the 

'The  late  Chief  Justice  Ellsworth. 


136  THE  CONNECTICUT 

earth,  of  which  they  are  composed,  is  of  uniform  texture,  the 
impressions  made  by  the  stream  upon  the  border,  are  also 
nearly  uniform.  Hence  this  border  is  almost  universally  a 
handsome  arch  with  a  margin  entirely  neat,  and  very  com- 
monly ornamented  with  a  fine  fringe  of  shrubs  and  trees. 
Nor  is  the  surface  of  these  grounds  less  pleasing.  The 
terraced  form  and  the  undulations  are  both  eminently  hand- 
some. In  a  country  abounding  in  hills,  plains  moderate  in 
their  extent,  like  these,  are  always  agreeable.  Their  uni- 
versal fertility  makes  a  cheerful  impression  on  every  eye. 
A  great  part  of  them  is  formed  into  meadows.  Meadows 
are  here  more  profitable,  and  everywhere  more  beautiful, 
than  lands  devoted  to  any  other  culture.  Here  they  are 
extended  from  five  to  five  hundred  acres,  and  are  every- 
where covered  with  a  verdure  peculiarly  rich  and  varied. 
The  vast  fields,  also,  which  are  not  in  meadow,  exhibit  all 
the  productions  of  the  climate,  interspersed  in  parallelo- 
grams, divided  only  by  mathematical  lines,  and  mingled  in 
a  charming  confusion.  In  many  places,  large  and  thrifty 
orchards,  and  everywhere  forest  trees  standing  singly,  of 
great  height  and  graceful  figures,  diversify  the  landscape. 

The  first  object,  however,  in  the  whole  landscape  is  un- 
doubtedly the  Connecticut  itself.  This  stream  may,  per- 
haps, with  as  much  propriety  as  any  in  the  world  be  named 
the  Beautiful  River.  From  Stuart  to  the  Sound,  it  uniformly 
sustains  this  character.  The  purity,  salubrity  and  sweet- 
ness of  its  waters ;  the  frequency  and  elegance  of  its 
meanders  ;  its  absolute  freedom  from  all  aquatic  vegetables  ; 
the  uncommon  and  universal  beauty  of  its  banks  ;  here  a 
smooth  and  winding  beach  ;  there  covered  with  rich  verdure  ; 
now  fringed  with  bushes ;  now  crowned  with  lofty  trees  ; 
and  now  formed  by  the  intruding  hill,  the  rude  bluff  and 


THE  CONNECTICUT  137 

the  shaggy  mountain ;  are  objects  which  no  traveller  can 
thoroughly  describe  and  no  reader  adequately  imagine.  When 
to  these  are  added  the  numerous  towns,  villages  and  ham- 
lets, almost  everywhere  exhibiting  marks  of  prosperity  and 
improvement  ;  the  rare  appearance  of  decline  j  the  nu- 
merous churches  lifting  their  spires  in  frequent  succession  j 
the  neat  schoolhouses,  everywhere  occupied ;  and  the 
mills  busied  on  such  a  multitude  of  streams  j  it  may  be 
safely  asserted  that  a  pleasanter  journey  will  rarely  be  found 
than  that  which  is  made  in  the  Connecticut  Valley. 


MOSEL 

F.  WARRE    CORNISH 

SO  we  embarked  under  a  bright  evening  sky,  and  the 
smooth  stream  took  us  swiftly  down.  It  was  a 
beautiful  moment ;  the  evening  deepened  over  the  green 
water  and  the  red  rocks,  till  dusk  fell,  and  we  ran  the  boat 
aground,  hiding  the  oars  in  a  willow-bed,  and  tramped  with 
our  luggage  into  Ruwer,  the  neighbouring  village,  having 
been  assured  that  wherever  we  stopped  we  should  find  good 
lodging.  And  so  it  proved ;  not  a  village  which  failed  to 
supply  good  food,  decently  cooked,  excellent  wine  and 
golden  beer,  clean  beds,  moderate  charges,  and,  best  of  all, 
willing  and  cheerful  hospitality,  such  as  one  finds  in  Tyrol 
and  the  Bavarian  highlands.  There  was  not  a  dull  reach 
from  Trier  to  Coblenz.  The  scenery  is  not  so  impressive 
as  that  of  the  Danube  or  the  famous  windings  of  the  Rhine. 

But  the  hills  of  the  Mosel  Valley  are  beautiful  in  form 
and  varied  with  rocks  red  as  those  of  Devonshire,  or  grey 
slate  in  slabs  and  spires,  or  dark  volcanic,  like  the  Eifel. 
Everywhere  there  are  beautiful  woods,  valleys  guarded 
by  ancient  castles,  and  smiling  upland  meadows  far  away 
among  the  hills. 

As  we  embarked  on  the  Mosel,  let  us  praise  the  water 
itself,  to  be  in  company  with  which  was  joy  enough ;  in 
colour  green,  neither  like  emerald  nor  chrysoprase,  nor  like 
the  crystal  of  the  rushing  Traun,  or  of  the  deep  basin,  the 
home  of  the  soaring  grayling,  where  the  river  leaps  over 


MOSEL  139 

the  Traun  fall.  Nor  like  the  water  that  comes  down  at 
Locarno  or  Verallo  j  but  a  deeper,  statelier  colour,  lighter 
than  the  Kyle  between  Mull  and  Argyll,  darker  than  the 
Thames  at  Cookham  when  at  its  best  after  a  dry  July.  In 
all  the  shallows  wave  long  tresses  of  Undine's  hair,  and  the 
surface  of  the  water  is  broken  by  little  ruffing  eddies  into 
the  loveliest  water-pattern.  Perhaps  other  rivers  are  like 
this ;  I  do  not  know  them.  It  seemed  to  me  a  peculiar 
and  native  charm  of  this  river,  never  sullen,  never  bois- 
terous, the  lady  of  German  rivers.  Smooth-sliding  is  the 
proper  epithet.  I  wish  my  reed  were  vocal  to  praise  her 
aright.  She  has  her  own  poet — Ausonius ;  but  his  poem 
is  rather  a  catalogue  than  a  hymn  of  praise,  and  he  takes 
her  for  a  river,  not  a  goddess,  as  she  revealed  herself  to  us. 

Ruwer,  the  village  where  we  were  to  spend  the  night, 
was  shimmering  between  sunset  and  starlight,  and  had  its 
own  light  besides,  for  the  military  were  here,  and  all  the 
windows  ablaze,  and  Faust  and  Wagner  and  their  loves  had 
come  out  of  Trier  to  take  the  air  and  drink,  noisy  but  re- 
spectable. 

The  next  morning  was  the  ist  of  September,  a  dawn  of 
golden  haze  telling  of  hot  tramps  over  stubbles  and  turnip- 
fields.  We  were  cool  and  contented,  and  did  not  lust  after 
partridges.  We  find  our  boat  in  the  dewy  willow-bed  and 
give  ourselves  to  the  stream.  We  have  got  used  to  the 
rustic  oars,  and  it  is  no  exertion  to  row  with  the  swift  cur- 
rent, which  here  and  there  breaks  into  a  little  rapid  and 
makes  the  boat  dance — on  one  occasion  we  shipped  nearly 
half  a  pint  of  water.  It  is  no  good  to  describe  what  was 
enjoyed  and  is  remembered ;  but  here  are  the  facts,  though 
mere  facts  tell  little.  Red  sandstone  cliffs,  alternating  with 
grey  slate  ;  broad  meadows  of  Alpine  grass  freckled  with 


140  MOSEL 

pink  crocus ;  walnut  and  apple  orchards ;  sober  villages 
with  dark  roofs  and  spires  ;  here  and  there  a  ruined  castle ; 
high  "  faraways "  of  pasture  and  forest ;  cavalry  and 
artillery  flashing  and  rumbling  as  they  march  to  the 
manoeuvres  along  the  riverside  roads;  slow  wagons  drawn 
by  fox-coloured  cows;  on  and  on  we  slide,  stopping  where 
we  like,  bathing  when  we  like,  till  at  evening  we  see  a  lofty 
rock  at  a  bend  of  the  river ;  and  a  party  of  ladies  in  a  punt. 
Boldly  we  call  out  to  ask  if  there  is  a  good  lodging  here, 
and  gaily  "  "Jo.  freilicb  !"  comes  back  the  answer  across  the 
river,  and  we  land  and  put  up  at  a  clean  and  friendly  inn. 
The  parents  and  two  hard-featured  and  hospitable 
daughters  welcome  us ;  the  whole  family  turn  out  of  their 
rooms  and  turn  us  in,  and  we  sup  under  the  stars  and  the 
velvet  sky  in  front  of  the  wooded  rock,  which  plunges 
straight  into  the  river  and  gives  its  name,  "  Echo,"  to  the 
inn.  The  stars  were  very  grand  that  night,  and  the  invo- 
cation of  Echo  unearthly  as  always ;  it  was  impossible  not 
to  believe  here  in  Kuhlebjorn  and  wood-spirits. 

The  next  morning  (Sedan-day)  we  were  taken  down  to 
the  bank  by  father,  mother  and  the  two  daughters,  and  find 
the  little  brother  clearing  out  the  boat.  How  much 
willingness  and  courtesy  for  so  small  a  payment.  We  said 
good-bye  to  the  friendly  family,  wishing  them  many  guests 
and  good  weather  for  their  wine,  and  dropped  down  to 
Muhtheim  and  Berncastle,  famous  for  its  "  Doctor,"  the 
best  wine  on  the  Mosel,  though  much  "Doctor"  is  sold 
which  did  not  grow  at  Berncastle,  as  there  are  not  vines 
enough  at  Zeltinger  to  furnish  half  the  Zeltinger  drunk  in 
England.  But  the  name  matters  little  if  the  wine  is  good. 
At  Berncastle  or  rather  at  Cues,  on  the  opposite  bank, 
there  is  a  large  modern  hotel  near  an  iron  bridge ;  but 


MOSEL  141 

there  is  also  an  ancient  castle,  and  a  conventual  building 
founded  by  Cardinal  Cusanus  in  1465,  no  longer  occupied 
by  Monks. 

I  wish  I  could  convey  something  of  the  pleasure  which 
the  rare  beauty  of  the  green  water  and  the  continual 
variety  of  the  landscape  gave  us  ;  the  strong  rippling  of  the 
stream  when  the  rowers,  out  of  mere  idleness,  put  on  a 
spurt  and  the  steerer  enjoys  his  ease ;  the  still  backwaters 
among  the  rushes,  where  the  current  is  guided  by  groynes 
into  the  mid-stream ;  the  sun-smitten  cliffs  ;  the  soft,  green 
slopes  and  valleys,  where  cloud-shadows  sleep.  The  new 
landscapes  came  gliding  into  view  with  a  change  at  every 
bend ;  but  all  is  harmony.  We  pass  pious  processions  of 
country  people  with  banners  and  "  Aves,"  the  priest  lead- 
ing them.  They  seem  tired  but  happy — country  people  of 
the  humblest  kind,  unreached  by  tourists.  The  trains  tin- 
kle to  warn  people  of  the  crossings,  the  slow  cow-wains  creak 
along  the  roads,  little  boys  shout  injurious  remarks  to  the 
"  Engelander"  women  kneel  by  the  stream  and  wash  linen, 
the  fish  leap  in  the  shallows,  the  sun  shines,  and  the  day 
goes  by.  How  good  the  remembrance  of  the  walk  over 
the  hills,  cutting  off  a  long  loop,  while  two  of  us  took  the 
boat  round ;  for  the  Mosel  bends  round  more  than  once 
almost  in  a  circle,  as  at  Durham  and  Chateau  Gaillard,  and 
you  walk  across  through  grasshopper  pastures  and  steep 
vineyard  paths,  through  cool  dark  woods  and  heathy  sum- 
mits looking  far  away,  through  quivering  haze,  towards 
Coblenz  and  Mainz.  How  good,  too,  the  blazing  sun  in 
little  Kinsheim,  the  Mittagsessen  and  reposeful  hour  under 
the  tulip-tree  in  the  hot  shady  garden  at  the  back  of  the  inn. 

Another  great  loop  to  Alf,  a  little  boy  and  his  sister 
bringing  the  boat  from  picturesque  Punderich,  their  dwell- 


142  MOSEL 

ing  place.  Alf  will  be  remembered,  not  for  itself — for  it  is 
a  tiresome  little  watering  place,  crowded  and  hot,  and 
noisy  with  voices  of  German  trippers, — but  for  our  ex- 
cursion to  Elz.  We  climbed  out  of  the  trench  in  which  the 
river  runs,  and  drove  across  a  happy  tableland  of  orchards  ; 
roads  bordered  with  fruit-trees,  wide-spreading  meadows, 
cornland  and  wood — peaceful  German  country  sleeping  in 
afternoon  sunshine,  mowing  and  reaping,  planting  and 
building,  unchanged  for  a  thousand  years;  then  the  road 
descended  through  shady  woods,  and,  lo !  at  a  turning, 
"pricked  with  incredible  pinnacles  into  heaven,"  with  gables, 
roofs  and  turrets  innumerable,  a  castle,  but,  oh,  what  a 
castle !  Here  lived  the  Sleeping  Beauty ;  hither  King 
Thrushbeard  brought  his  bride ;  such  a  building  Hop-o-my- 
Thumb  descried  from  his  tree-top.  Up  in  that  turret  was 
the  spinning-wheel ;  under  that  window  twanged  Blondel's 
zither;  from  that  gateway  Sintram  and  the  trusty  Rolf 
spurred  forward,  and  St.  Hubert  set  out  to  chase  the  holy 
stag ;  and  knights  and  ladies,  with  falcon  on  wrist  or  with 
cross  bow  and  spear,  went  out  a-hunting,  or  rode  "  a  stately 
train  in  pomp  of  gold  and  jewels,  velvet  and  vair"  to  joust 
at  Worms-upon-the-Rhine.  Henceforward  I  have  seen  the 
German  Zauberland ;  henceforward  nothing  can  add  to  or 
take  from  this  impression.  My  dream  is  come  true. 

The  castle  stands  on  an  isolated  rock  with  deep  wooded 
ravines  on  all  sides,  to  which  no  stranger  may  go.  The 
saucy  castle  defied  all  its  neighbours  and  vexed  the  lands  of 
my  lord  archbishop  the  Elector  of  Trier,  who,  to  curb  its 
pride,  built  another  castle  over  against  it  and  called  it 
"  Trutz-Elz  "  (Who  care  for  Elz  ?).  I  don't  know  the  rest 
of  the  story,  but  there  stands  Elz  as  good  as  ever,  possessed 
by  the  lords  of  that  ilk,  and  Trutz-Elz  is  a  ruin. 


MOSEL  143 

Our  time  is  running  out.  We  left  Alf  in  a  dawning  of 
golden  mist,  and  rowed  merrily  down  to  Ediger,  with  its 
picturesque  church,  all  flying  buttresses,  pinnacles  and 
crockets,  like  a  church  in  a  Diirer  background,  to  Cochem, 
with  its  restored  castle  and  a  sense  of  modern  prosperity 
which  is  better  for  the  town  than  for  the  contemplative 
traveller.  Another  clean  little  hostelry  at  Treis,  with  good 
wine  and  a  cheery  landlord.  There  is  a  river  at  Treis  and 
a  possibility  of  small  trout  if  we  take  great  trouble ;  but  we 
don't ;  it  is  too  hot  to  take  trouble  j  there  is  no  water  in 
the  stream,  and  the  fish  are  asleep.  The  river  now  makes 
up  its  devious  mind  to  go  straight  for  Coblenz  in  long 
reaches,  with  groynes  on  either  bank.  It  comes  on  to  rain  ; 
we  bump  a  rock  and  dance  along  a  rapid.  Then  come 
commercial  buildings  with  chimneys,  reminding  us  that  we 
live  in  the  iron  age.  The  stream  widens,  the  rain  pours 
down,  the  Roman  bridge  comes  in  sight.  Coblenz  finis 
cbartaeque  viceque. 

May  we  go  there  again. 


THE  IRRAWADDY 
EMILY  A.  RICHINGS 

THE  mighty  Irrawaddy,  which  traverses  the  entire 
length  of  Burma,  impresses  itself  on  popular 
imagination  as  the  living  soul  of  the  land,  moulded  and 
coloured  through  countless  ages  by  the  influence  of  the 
majestic  river.  If  Egypt  be  the  gift  of  the  Nile,  Burma  is 
scarcely  less  the  gift  of  the  Irrawaddy,  deepened  by  myriad 
tributary  streams,  and  flowing  in  ever-widening  volume 
from  forest  cradle  to  fan-shaped  Delta.  The  source  of  the 
historic  stream  is  still  veiled  in  mystery,  as  it  winds  through 
impenetrable  jungle  and  untrodden  mountains  until  it  be- 
comes navigable  for  the  last  thousand  miles  to  the  sea. 
Manifold  traditions  encompass  the  great  river  with  that 
atmosphere  of  glamour  which  invests  Burma  with  romantic 
charm. 

The  song  of  the  river  breathes  of  nomadic  hordes  and 
contending  races,  of  old-world  kings,  mythical  warriors, 
and  legendary  saints,  until  the  dominant  Burmese  united  in 
the  Irrawaddy  Valley,  and  the  tribes  wandering  down  the 
lateral  tributaries  were  absorbed  or  subjected  by  the  ruling 
power. 

The  modern  voyager  generally  takes  the  downward 
course  of  the  river,  journeying  by  train  to  Katha,  through 
the  palm-studded  plains  and  dense  forests  skirting  the  blue 
hills  which  divide  Burma  from  the  Shan  States  on  the  bor- 
ders of  Siam.  Under  the  hovering  mists  of  dawn  giant 


THE  IRRAWADDY  145 

teak  and  feathery  bamboo,  looped  together  with  coils  of  all- 
embracing  creeper,  make  a  rich  tangle  of  matted  foliage. 
Bhamo,  the  head  of  navigation  as  regards  the  great  steamers 
of  the  Irrawaddy  Flotilla,  and  the  frontier  town  on  the 
borders  of  China,  lies  along  the  yellow  sand-bank  of  the 
foreshore.  The  Siamese  name,  signifying  "  City  of  Pans," 
is  derived  from  the  local  manufacture  of  iron  and  earthen- 
ware jars,  cauldrons,  and  pitchers,  dating  from  primitive 
times.  Bhamo,  formerly  a  walled  Shan  town,  fiercely  con- 
tested both  by  China  and  Burma,  was  captured  four  times 
by  the  Chinese,  easily  reinforced  from  their  own  frontier 
only  thirty  miles  away.  The  town  of  12,000  inhabitants, 
protected  by  an  English  battery  and  a  police  force  of  Indi- 
ans and  Kachins,  is  still  the  meeting-place  of  converging 
races.  Chinese,  Moslems,  and  Hindus  possess  their  own 
quarters  in  the  squalid  city,  where  the  astute  Celestials  re- 
tain the  largest  share  of  local  trade,  importing  cotton  and 
salt,  or  exporting  honey,  hides,  ochre  and  chestnuts,  with 
thousands  of  cooking  pans.  Blue  robes,  sun-hats  and  pig- 
tails, grey  roofs  with  upcurved  eaves,  and  tinselled  banners 
waving  round  the  tarnished  red  of  a  Joss-house  bristling 
with  weird  figures,  transport  our  thoughts  to  the  Middle 
Kingdom,  reached  by  the  sandy  track  beyond  the  ruined 
walls.  Tom-toms  beat  in  the  Hindu  quarter,  and  dark 
figures  glide  past  with  jingling  anklets  and  filigree  nose- 
rings, or  lie  supine  on  rickety  charpoys  in  the  open  street. 
A  muezzin  chants  from  the  minaret  of  a  tiny  mosque,  and 
the  bearded  sons  of  Islam  spread  their  prayer-carpets  in  the 
dust,  prostrating  themselves  in  obedience  to  the  voice  which 
summons  them  to  prayer  on  these  alien  shores.  Beneath 
the  banyan  trees  of  an  arcaded  court  a  marble  Buddha 
dreams  amid  the  shadows,  and  kneeling  Shan  women  offer 


146  THE  IRRAWADDY 

their  morning  orisons  at  the  crumbling  altar.  Tall  black 
head-dresses  and  dark-blue  skirts,  embroidered  with  many- 
coloured  wools,  mark  a  distinct  racial  type.  Silver  cylin- 
ders weigh  down  dusky  ears,  silver  hoops  encircle  sunburned 
necks,  and  the  glittering  chain  of  a  silver  needle-case  hung 
from  the  waist-belt  of  an  almond-eyed  girl  denotes  her  rank 
as  a  Shan  lady.  The  intelligent  faces  are  bright  and  ani- 
mated, but  every  smile  discloses  teeth  blackened  with  betel- 
nut.  The  men  of  the  party  sip  tea  and  smoke  their  silver 
pipes  under  the  green  boughs,  leaving  the  devotional  exer- 
cises to  their  womankind.  A  Burman  in  rose-coloured 
turban  and  plaid  kilt  lolls  upon  a  stone  parapet,  and  Kachin 
women,  with  mops  of  rough  hair  and  furtive  faces  washed 
in  grease,  pass  the  gateway  with  loads  of  elephant-grass 
on  their  backs,  bringing  a  barbaric  element  into  the 
scene. 

Pagoda,  Joss-house,  and  Buddhist  temple  stand  in  friendly 
proximity,  and  no  war  of  sect  or  creed  disturbs  the  harmony 
of  life  under  the  tolerant  British  rule ;  but  the  Buddhism  of 
the  Shan  and  the  Nature-worship  of  the  Kachin  show  many 
points  of  contact. 

The  arrival  of  the  Irrawaddy  steamer,  towing  cargo 
"  flats  "  in  its  wake,  is  the  event  of  the  week,  and  rustic 
barges  thread  the  narrow  defile  above  Bhamo,  bringing  their 
contingent  of  produce  and  passengers  from  distant  villages 
on  the  confines  of  civilization.  One  of  the  great  "  flats  " 
is  a  floating  market,  where  Burman  and  Kachin,  Shan  and 
Chin,  display  their  varied  merchandise  to  the  motley  throng 
of  customers.  Gaudy  silks  and  cottons,  rude  pottery  and 
quaint  lacquer-work,  barbaric  toys  and  trinkets,  fruit,  vege- 
tables, and  sweetmeats,  with  household  utensils  of  every 
kind,  fill  the  dusky  space  of  the  covered  deck  with  brilliant 


THE  IRRAWADDY  147 

colour.  Indolent  Burmese  doze  and  smoke  on  gaily-striped 
quilts,  while  their  wives  chaffer  and  barter  with  business- 
like aplomb;  for  the  Burmese  woman  is  the  breadwinner 
of  the  family,  and  retains  most  of  the  commercial  transac- 
tions of  the  country  in  her  capable  hands.  A  pretty  girl 
in  white  jacket  and  apple-green  skirt,  with  a  pink  pawa 
floating  on  her  shoulders,  sits  on  a  pile  of  yellow  cushions 
and  smokes  her  big  cheroot  of  chopped  wood  and  tobacco 
in  meditative  calm.  Diamonds  glitter  in  her  ears,  and  ruby 
studs  fasten  her  muslin  bodice,  for  she  goes  as  a  bride  to 
some  distant  riverside  town,  and  carries  her  "  dot "  on  her 
back.  Strings  of  onions  and  scarlet  chillies  hang  from  the 
rafters  above  bales  of  fur  from  China.  Children  flit  up  and 
down,  like  many-coloured  butterflies,  in  quaint  costumes 
brightened  with  pink  scarfs  and  tiny  turban,  miniature 
replicas  of  their  elders, 'for  no  special  garb  of  childhood 
exists  in  Burma,  and  the  general  effect  suggests  an  assem- 
blage of  gaily-dressed  dolls.  Shan  women  in  tall  black 
turbans  stand  round  a  harper  as  he  twangs  the  silken  strings 
of  a  black  and  gold  lyre  with  sounding-board  of  varnished 
deerskin.  The  weird  fractional  tones  of  native  music,  dis- 
cordant to  European  ears,  harmonize  with  the  semi-barbaric 
environment  as  the  musician  chants  some  heroic  legend  of 
the  mythical  past.  Presently  he  approaches  a  mattress  of 
white  and  scarlet,  occupied  by  a  woman  whose  brown 
Mongolian  face  is  blanched  to  the  pallor  of  age-worn 
marble  by  chronic  pain,  and  sings  a  wild  incantation  over 
the  sufferer,  who  by  the  advice  of  a  fortune-teller  under- 
takes the  weary  journey  to  pray  for  healing  at  the  Golden 
Pagoda  of  Rangoon.  The  charm  apparently  succeeds,  for 
the  tired  eyes  close,  and  as  the  song  dies  off  in  a  whisper- 
ing cadence  a  peaceful  slumber  smoothes  the  lines  of  pain 


148  THE  IRRAWADDY 

in  the  troubled  face.  Family  parties  sit  round  iron  tea- 
kettles, and  girls  bring  bowls  of  steaming  rice  from  the 
rude  galley  where  native  passengers  cook  their  food. 

Past  green  islets  in  sandy  reaches,  hemmed  in  by  bold 
cliffs  conveying  vague  suggestions  of  Nile  scenery,  the  great 
steamer  pursues  her  way.  Above  dark  clumps  of  banyan 
and  tamarind,  the  golden  spires  of  Buddhist  monasteries,  or 
the  shining  tee  of  village  pagodas,  invest  the  changing  land- 
scape with  the  unique  individuality  of  Burma,  distinct  in 
character  from  the  Indian  Empire,  though  politically  com- 
prised within  it.  A  magical  peace  and  purity,  suggesting  a 
world  fresh  from  the  Creator's  hand,  transfigures  hill  and 
dale  with  ineffable  lucidity  of  atmosphere  and  delicacy  of 
colour.  The  solemnity  of  the  deep  gorges  piercing  the 
profound  gloom  of  virgin  forest  supplies  a  contrasting  note 
of  haunting  mystery,  the  loneliness  of  these  upper  reaches 
merely  accentuated  by  occasional  signs  of  human  life  and 
activity  in  the  vast  solitudes  through  which  the  river  flows. 
As  the  steamer  swings  round  a  projecting  rock,  the  grotesque 
forms  of  two  colossal  leographs — the  hybrid  lion  and  gryphon 
of  Burmese  mythology — rear  their  white  bulk  against  a 
green  tuft  of  towering  palms  at  the  gate  of  a  Buddhist  tem- 
ple flanking  the  grey  cone  of  a  tall  pagoda.  Yellow-robed 
monks  lean  on  the  balustrade  of  an  island  monastery  hidden 
like  a  bird's  nest  amid  the  thick  foliage,  and  beautiful  even 
in  decay.  The  broad-eaved  roofs,  with  their  carved  and 
gilded  pinnacles,  are  miracles  of  art,  for  the  historic  founda- 
tion was  formerly  renowned  throughout  Upper  Burma,  and 
on  festivals  even  the  dog-fish,  for  which  this  reach  of  water 
is  famous,  were  decorated  with  strips  of  gold-leaf,  and  tamed 
to  come  at  the  call  of  the  monks.  Farther  on  a  yellow 
procession  descends  a  long  flight  of  rocky  steps  cut  in  the 


THE  IRRAWADDY  [  149 

face  of  a  steep  cliff  crowned  by  a  monastic  pile  bristling 
with  gilt  finials  and  vermilion  spires.  At  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  stairway  a  huge  funeral  pyre  of  forest  trees  attracts 
groups  of  villagers,  who  land  from  a  fleet  of  carved  and 
decorated  boats  in  festal  array,  for  a  monk  is  to  be  cremated 
after  the  invariable  custom  of  Buddhist  orders,  and  the 
ceremony  is  observed  as  a  general  holiday.  The  light- 
hearted  Burmese  only  extract  pleasure  from  the  gruesome 
spectacle,  for  what  matters  this  little  incident  in  the  mani- 
fold cycles  of  progressive  existence  reserved  for  the  rein- 
carnating soul  ? 

Stockaded  villages  line  the  foreshore,  and  hilltops  glitter 
with  the  golden  tee  of  clustering  shrines.  The  sublime 
defiles  of  the  glorious  river,  with  their  frowning  cliffs  and 
toppling  crags,  widen  into  the  dreamy  calm  of  land-locked 
reaches,  where  pagodas  multiply  on  every  point  of  vantage, 
in  monumental  testimony  to  the  zeal  and  devotion  of  the 
Burmese  past.  The  nomadic  races  of  Burma  impressed 
their  character  on  the  multitude  of  ruined  cities  and  deserted 
capitals  buried  under  the  veil  of  verdure  in  the  tropical  jun- 
gle, or  covering  hill  and  plain  with  decaying  splendour.  In 
a  shadowy  channel  beneath  overhanging  rocks  the  wrecked 
yacht  of  the  luckless  King  Theebaw  lies  overturned,  the 
lapsing  water  rippling  against  red  funnel  and  gilded  poop. 
No  effort  is  made  to  raise  the  melancholy  derelict,  a  fitting 
emblem  of  past  sovereignty.  At  the  sacred  heights  of 
Sagaing,  transformed  by  the  white  and  golden  spires  of 
graceful  pagodas  into  ideal  loveliness,  a  potkoodaw,  or  "  man 
of  both  worlds,"  in  semi-monastic  garb  with  yellow  parasol, 
awaits  the  arrival  of  the  steamer. 

The  gentle  humility  of  this  old  pothoodaw  contrasts 
favourably  with  the  aggressive  importance  of  a  village 


150  THE  IRRAWADDY 

"  head-man,"  or  local  magistrate,  who  pushes  him  aside, 
and  struts  along  the  narrow  wharf  in  tartan  silk  and  spot- 
less muslin,  an  obsequious  attendant  carrying  his  master's 
red  umbrella  and  silver  betel-box.  Yellow-robed  brethren 
dismount  from  creaking  bullock-wagons  lined  with  hay, 
and  await  the  coming  steamer  to  bear  them  to  the  crema- 
tion ceremony  up-stream.  Palm-leaf  fans  are  raised  to  the 
brown  faces,  but  two  youthful  novices  satisfy  their  curiosity 
concerning  European  womankind  by  peeping  through  the 
interstices  of  the  sun-dried  fronds.  Other  waiting  passen- 
gers set  out  the  huge  pieces  of  a  clumsy  chessboard  on  a 
pile  of  flour  bags ;  for  time  is  no  account  on  these  dreamy 
shores,  and  two  hours  must  elapse  before  the  Bhamo  boat 
swings  in  sight. 

Evening  turns  the  noble  river  into  a  sheet  of  flaming 
gold ;  pink  clouds  lie  like  scattered  rose-leaves  in  the  path 
of  the  sinking  sun,  and  through  the  deepening  veil  of  twi- 
light the  red  fires  twinkling  outside  reed-thatched  huts  of 
tiny  villages  supply  local  colour  to  riverside  life.  Jungle- 
grown  Ava  and  ruined  Amapura  lie  on  the  water's  brink; 
the  Pagan,  grandest  of  ancient  capitals,  covers  a  wide  plain 
with  the  imposing  architecture  of  a  thousand  pagodas,  the 
colossal  Ananda  Dagon  soaring  like  a  huge  cathedral  above 
multitudinous  domes  and  spires,  gold  and  crimson,  white 
and  grey,  of  the  deserted  metropolis;  for  the  tide  of  life 
swept  away  from  royal  Pagan  seven  hundred  years  ago. 
The  white  tents  of  the  Government  elephant  camp  cover 
a  stretch  of  sand  above  the  bathing  place  of  the  herd,  and 
the  officer  in  charge  gives  a  fascinating  account  of  his  ad- 
venturous life ;  though  many  perils  attend  the  capture  of  the 
three  hundred  elephants  annually  required  by  authority,  and 
in  the  past  year  fifteen  hunters  have  fallen  victims  to  the 


THE  IRRAWADDY  15! 

dangers  which  beset  horse  and  rider  from  sharp  tusks, 
trampling  feet,  falling  trees,  and  tangling  creepers  in  the 
dark  recesses  of  primeval  forest.  The  typical  denizen  of 
Burmese  woods  possesses  a  sacred  character  in  popular 
estimation,  and  carven  elephants  loom  through  the  tropical 
greenery  of  the  shores,  supporting  tapering  pagoda  or  pil- 
lared portico. 

The  steamer  stops  before  the  unfinished  temple  and 
colossal  Bell  of  Mingoon,  cracked  by  earthquake,  but  the 
second  largest  in  the  world,  the  grandeur  of  the  uncom- 
pleted design  memorializing  the  frustrated  ambition  of  a 
Burmese  king  who  desired  to  be  immortalized  as  a  Phaya- 
Taga^  or  "  Pagoda- Builder,"  rather  than  by  memories  of 
war  and  conquest.  The  spiritual  idealism  which  colours 
Burmese  idiosyncrasy  tinges  the  story  of  the  past,  and  a 
modern  writer  aptly  epitomizes  one  aspect  of  British  rule 
as  "  an  attempt  to  turn  poetic  philosophers  into  efficient 
policemen."  The  charm  of  this  freshwater  cruise  is  en- 
hanced by  frequent  opportunities  of  landing  at  riverside 
villages,  visits  to  Burmese  farms,  and  strolls  through  pictur- 
esque markets  or  beneath  the  palms  and  tamarinds  of  coun- 
try roads  leading  to  mouldering  pagodas  and  forgotten 
shrines.  The  inhabitants  of  these  verdant  shores  are  true 
"  children  of  the  river" — the  mystic  flood  which  supplies 
their  wants  and  moulds  their  character,  affording  them  an 
"  education  of  contact "  with  the  outside  world  to  soften 
the  crude  asperity  of  mental  isolation.  The  mother  plunges 
her  little  ones  into  the  eddying  waters  so  early  that  even  in 
helpless  infancy  they  become  amphibious  as  the  croaking 
frogs  in  the  iris  beds  at  the  river's  edge.  Merry  bathing 
parties  display  their  skill  in  diving,  swimming,  or  fishing  by 
hand  in  the  crystal  depths  ;  and  graceful  girls,  like  brown 


151  THE  IRRAWADDY 

Naiads,  disport  themselves  beneath  the  drooping  boughs 
which  kiss  the  ripples  of  some  sheltered  creek  fit  for  a 
fairy's  haunt.  Parrots  call  from  the  trees,  and  kingfishers 
flit  across  the  shallows  in  flashes  of  emerald  light.  Luxuri- 
ance of  vegetation  and  depth  of  colour  increase  with  every 
hour  of  the  downward  voyage.  Gold  mohur  and  scarlet 
cotton-tree  dazzle  the  eye  as  they  tower  up  into  the  burn- 
ing blue  of  the  tropical  sky,  and  when  the  crescent  moon 
sinks  beneath  the  horizon  myriads  of  glittering  fireflies  sug- 
gest, in  the  beautiful  words  of  an  Oriental  poet,  that  "  the 
night  is  adrift  with  her  stream  of  stars." 

Thabetkein,  the  busy  port  of  the  ruby  mines  sixty  miles 
away ;  Yandoon,  the  malodorous  fish-curing  town  a  la 
mode  de  Burma^  which  buries  the  native  hors  d'  oeuvre  to  eat 
it  in  decay  ;  and  beautiful  Prome,  asleep  in  the  moonlight, 
are  visited  in  turn,  the  character  of  the  scenery  changing  as 
the  wide  Delta  opens  up  before  the  advancing  steamer  in 
branching  channels,  like  numerous  rivers  springing  from 
the  parent  Irrawaddy.  Above  us  rises  the  sacred  cliff  of 
Guadama,  an  ancient  resort  of  religious  pilgrimage,  with 
countless  statues  of  Buddha  carved  to  inaccessible  heights 
in  the  living  rock.  The  romance  of  this  watery  world 
turns  over  a  new  page  on  entering  the  great  Bassein  Creek, 
the  last  stage  of  the  thousand  mile  course.  Elephants  feed- 
ing in  the  Jungle,  and  requiring  a  whole  day  for  a  full 
meal,  crash  through  the  canes  regardless  of  the  passing 
steamer.  Peacocks  drag  their  gorgeous  trains  over  pink 
river-grass  and  golden  sands.  Grey  egrets  preen  their  soft 
plumage  at  the  water's  edge,  and  purple  hornbills  rest  on 
swaying  palms.  The  Delta  is  alive  with  craft — rice  boats 
and  launches,  cargo-boats  and  steamers.  The  barbaric 
fenaw,  with  swelling  sails  and  twenty  oars ;  the  curving  native 


THE  IRRAWADDY  153 

barge,  and  the  graceful  Sampans,  flitting  like  brown-winged 
moths  across  the  stream.  Boys,  tattooed  from  head  to 
foot  in  elaborate  patterns,  descend  side-creek  and  canal  in 
a  rude  dug-out — the  hollow  tree  which  forms  the  primitive 
boat — and  the  green  tunnels  of  foliage  show  houses  of 
plaited  mats,  raised  on  piles  and  reached  by  ladders. 

Miles  of  malarious  marsh  have  been  reclaimed  by  Gov- 
ernment from  the  new  land  ever  silting  up  above  the  level  of 
the  water,  and  forming  the  rich  rice-fields  of  this  alluvial 
soil.  Riverside  towns  and  villages  become  more  frequent 
in  the  lower  reaches,  and  miniature  markets  of  country  pro- 
duce make  patches  of  brilliant  colour  on  the  sandy  shore. 
Silken-clad  girls,  with  flower-decked  heads,  sit  beneath  pink 
and  green  umbrellas,  shading  piles  of  golden  plantains  and 
pineapples.  Bamboo  stalls  of  curious  lacquer-ware  and 
trays  of  clay  Buddhas,  packets  of  gold-leaf,  and  sheaves  of 
incense-sticks  appeal  to  the  religious  instincts  of  pilgrims 
bound  for  the  Golden  Pagoda  of  distant  Rangoon.  The 
trade  here,  as  elsewhere,  is  monopolized  by  the  Burmese 
women,  though  many  pink-turbaned  admirers  lie  on  the 
sand,  smoking,  flirting,  and  singing  with  the  characteristic 
dolce  ar  niente  of  masculine  life.  The  long  fresh-water 
cruise  floats  us  from  wilderness  to  the  sea,  from  dreamland 
to  reality.  Rice-mills  line  the  shores,  ocean-going  ships 
rush  towards  the  forest  of  masts  encircling  busy  Rangoon, 
and  huge  teak-rafts,  floated  down  from  distant  woods,  and 
sometimes  two  years  on  the  way,  reach  their  moorings  at 
the  Ahlone  timber-yards.  Elephants,  working  with  mili- 
tary precision,  drag  the  giant  trunks  by  chains  from  the 
river's  brink  and  pile  them  up  with  mathematical  exact- 
ness, pushing  them  with  their  heads  until  perfectly  level. 
Even  commercial  Burma  can  never  be  commonplace,  for 


154  THE  IRRAWADDY 

beyond  the  motley  throngs  of  the  cosmopolitan  port,  the 
golden  spire  of  the  Shway  Dagon,  queen  of  pagodas  and  goal 
of  the  Irrawaddy  voyager,  idealizes  the  city  clustering 
round  the  sacred  hill,  and  created  by  the  central  sanctuary 
of  Burma's  ancient  faith. 


THE  CLYDE 

ROBERT  WALKER 

GLASGOW  and  its  river  have  acted  and  reacted  the 
one  upon  the  other ;  and  the  conditions  of  the 
city's  prosperity  and  well-being  are  indissolubly  linked  with 
the  stream  that  wanders  down  from  the  upland  moors  of 
Lanarkshire,  tumbling  over  precipices,  meandering  through 
rich  orchard  grounds,  flowing  through  the  busy  haunts  of 
men,  until  it  widens  into  the  noble  estuary  whose  waves 
reflect  the  peaks  of  Arran  and  wash  round  the  rugged  steeps 
of  Ailsa  Craig.  In  its  course  the  Clyde  runs  amid  all 
variety  of  scenery  :  moorland,  pastoral,  woodland.  It  is, 
at  one  time,  a  shallow  stream,  humming  over  a  pebbly  bed 
and  glittering  in  the  clear  sunshine  ;  at  another,  a  foul  and 
sullen  mass  of  water,  which  the  energy  of  man  has  turned 
to  good  account  in  his  commercial  enterprises ;  and  then 
again,  a  restless  sea,  whose  white-crested  waves  break  upon 
the  base  of  Highland  hills.  Through  all  its  changes,  it  is 
dear  to  the  heart  of  every  true  Glasgovian.  It  has  been  a 
source  of  untold  wealth  to  the  place  of  his  birth,  and  most 
of  his  happiest  memories  are  connected  with  the  sunny  days 
of  leisure  he  has  spent  among  its  lochs  and  by  its  sand- 
edged  bays.  Glasgow  looks  upon  the  Clyde  as  its  own 
special  glory  and  possession ;  it  is  proud  of  the  manner  in 
which  the  resources  of  the  river  have  been  developed  ;  it  is 
prouder  still  of  its  many  natural  beauties  familiar  to  its 
citizens  from  their  earliest  youth,  and  an  all-powerful  at- 


156  THE  CLYDE 

traction  for  the  strangers  who  are  led  to  our  shores  by  the 
fame  of  its  charms. 

Glasgow,  although  it  has  many  picturesque  vistas  within 
its  bounds  which  the  ordinary  business  man,  engrossed  with 
the  cares  of  the  Exchange,  recks  nothing  of,  is  not,  in  itself, 
a  magnet  to  draw  tourists  who  are  simply  in  search  of  the 
picturesque.  Edinburgh,  among  Scottish  cities,  is,  from  its 
own  natural  beauty,  the  cynosure  of  neighbouring  and  far- 
away eyes.  But  Glasgow  has  the  Clyde ;  and  the  Clyde, 
notwithstanding  the  advantages  of  the  Callander  and  Oban 
Railway,  is  still  the  pleasantest  and  most  picturesque  gate- 
way and  avenue  to  the  West  Highlands,  where  tourists 
rightly  love  to  congregate. 

The  practical  energy  and  shrewdness  of  the  Glasgow 
people  early  turned  to  the  best  advantage  the  inducements 
the  Frith  of  Clyde  offered  to  the  thousands  who  were  anx- 
ious for  "  change  of  air,"  and  on  the  outlook  for  summer 
resorts.  In  no  district  of  our  island  are  travelling  facilities 
greater  and  travelling  cheaper  than  on  the  Clyde.  A 
wonderful  change  has  taken  place  since  1812,  when  the 
Cornet^  the  pioneer  boat  of  a  vast  fleet  of  steamers,  began  to 
sail  between  Glasgow,  Greenock  and  Helensburgh.  Out 
of  the  Comet,  with  its  forty-two  feet  of  length,  has  been 
evolved  what  is  generally  regarded  as  the  premier  boat  on 
the  river,  Mr.  MacBrayne's  Columba,  which  carries  the 
tourist-flocks  from  Glasgow  to  Ardrishaig,  whence  Mr. 
MacBrayne's  West  Highland  service  is  continued  through 
the  Crinan  Canal. 

The  Columba  starts  on  her  journey  at  seven  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  and  as  she  threads  her  way  down  the  busy 
river-channel,  the  passengers  can  note  the  stir  and  bustle 
of  the  wharves,  and  the  evidences  in  ever-extending  docks 


THE  CLYDE  157 

and  quayage,  the  dredgers  and  divers,  of  the  indefatigable 
energy  and  well-directed  skill  of  the  Clyde  Trustees,  that 
have  turned  a  shallow  meandering  stream  into  a  highway 
for  the  largest  ships  that  float.  Down  past  the  building 
yards  with  their  clanging  hammers  and  great  ships  "  of 
iron  framed,"  past  what  were  once  ,the  cheerful  rural 
villages  of  Govan  and  Partick,  now  the  grimy  hives  of 
busy  human  bees,  we  steam,  leaving  behind  us  the  ancient 
royal  burgh  of  Renfrew  and  the  mouth  of  the  Cart,  and 
come  in  view  of  Bowling  and  the  Kilpatrick  Hills,  among 
which  the  patron  saint  of  Ireland  is  said  to  have  first  seen 
the  light.  The  river  here  broadens  into  something  like  an 
inland  lake  and  the  landscape  grows  decidedly  picturesque. 
This  has  been  a  favourite  subject  for  many  Scottish  land- 
scape painters — Nasmyth,  McCulloch  and  Bough  among 
the  rest.  There  is  a  wide  stretch  of  view  and  the  hills 
near  and  distant — the  first  glimpse  we  have  yet  had  of  the 
beginning  of  the  Highlands — give  to  it  dignity  and  variety. 
To  the  water,  studded  with  craft  of  all  rigs,  Dalnottar 
Hill,  Dunglass  (where  stands  the  monument  to  Bell,  who 
introduced  steam  navigation  to  the  Clyde),  Dumbuck  Hill 
and  the  mass  of  Dumbarton  Castle,  are  effective  back- 
ground and  setting. 

At  the  Tail  of  the  Bank,  as  the  anchorage  off  Greenock 
is  called,  lie  a  motley  crowd  of  craft :  bluff-bowed  timber 
ships,  smart  Australian  clippers,  handsome  steam  vessels 
of  the  various  lines  to  America,  gaily-painted  foreign  ships, 
and  in  the  midst  of  them,  an  embodiment  of  power  and 
authority,  rides  the  guardship,  a  formidable  ironclad. 

The  steamer  at  Greenock  gathers  passengers  who  have 
come  down  from  Glasgow  by  rail,  and  she  takes  in  more 
at  Gourock,  to  which  the  Caledonian  Company  now  run 


158  THE  CLYDE 

trains.  The  old  Gourock  pier,  dear  from  its  fishing  as- 
sociations to  the  hearts  of  many  generations  of  Glasgow 
boys,  is  now  completely  altered  j  a  fine  quay  front  has  been 
put  up  and  a  handsome  station  erected.  Gourock  is  one 
of  the  oldest  of  the  Clyde  watering-places ;  in  its  day  it 
was  fashionable  and  thought  to  be  pretty  far  removed  from 
the  giddy  world ;  now  it  is  the  resort  of  the  cheap-tripper, 
and  has  about  its  houses  something  of  a  second-rate 
look. 

The  view  of  the  Frith  from  both  Greenock  and 
Gourock  piers  is  one  of  great  extent  and  beauty.  Oppo- 
site, rise  in  the  background  range  after  range  of  hills,  the 
fantastic  ridges  of  "  Argyle's  Bowling-green,"  the  Cobbler, 
the  Black  Hill  of  Kilmun,  the  steeps  around  Glen  Messan, 
and  stealing  between  these  mountain  masses  are  the  lochs 
that  are  among  the  chief  charms  of  the  district.  We  have 
fronting  us  the  entrances  to  the  Gareloch,  Loch  Long  and 
the  Holy  Loch,  with  wooded  Roseneath  and  a  white 
stretch  along  the  shore  of  cottages  and  little  towns.  If  we 
can  only  secure  a  day  when  the  waves  glitter  in  the  sun 
and  the  fleecy  clouds  fleck  the  hillsides  with  alternate 
lights  and  shadows,  then  we  need  scarcely  wish  for  a  fairer 
scene. 

Glasgow  men  are  enthusiastic  yachtsmen,  and  the  re- 
gattas, the  opening  cruises  and  closing  cruises  of  the 
various  clubs  are  among  the  chief  galas  of  the  westcoast 
season.  Our  yachts  and  their  builders — such  as  Watson 
and  Fife — our  skippers  and  our  crews,  are  famous  all  the 
world  over.  The  "  white  wings  "  spot  the  Frith  at  every 
turn,  and  there  are  few  prettier  sights  than  one  of  these 
Clyde  greyhounds,  bursting  through  the  water  under  a 
cloud  of  canvas,  with  her  lee-rail  well  buried  in  the  sea. 


THE  CLYDE  159 

Down  the  Cowal  shore  the  steamer  slips  and  the  long 
belt  of  houses  and  villas  that  extends  from  Hunter's  Quay 
to  Innellan — once  all  a  lonely  shore — is  left  behind,  and 
we  round  Toward  Point  and  its  lighthouse  into  Rothsay 
Bay.  This  bay,  with  its  environment  of  hills,  is  one  of 
the  choice  bits  on  the  Clyde ;  the  natives  all  declare  it  to 
be  finer  than  the  Bay  of  Naples.  Few  Rothsay  men  have 
been  at  Naples.  When  a  yacht  club  holds  a  regatta  here, 
and  the  boats  cluster  at  anchor  off  Rothsay  and  there  are 
fireworks  and  illuminations,  there  is  no  livelier  place  than 
this  same  bay. 

The  town  itself  is  beautifully  situated,  but  looks  best  at 
a  distance.  From  Barone  Hill,  at  the  back,  a  fine  view 
can  be  obtained  of  the  panorama  of  the  bay.  Rothsay 
has  a  long  history :  it  is  a  royal  burgh,  and  like  Renfrew, 
gives  a  title  to  the  Prince  of  Wales.  Its  chief  glory  is  its 
ruined  castle,  over  which  Norsemen  and  Scots,  Bruces  and 
Baliols,  have  fought  and  murdered  one  another.  Old 
memories  and  traditions  cluster  as  thick  round  it  as  the 
ivy  on  its  walls. 

Leaving  Rothsay,  we  sail  into  the  Kyles  of  Bute,  a 
narrow  passage  between  the  island  and  the  mainland. 
The  wonder  is  how  the  steamer  can  thread  its  way  through 
the  twisting,  twining  channel,  that  appears  hardly  broad 
enough  for  the  Columba's  paddle-wheels.  Now  and 
again  it  almost  seems  as  if  we  should  run  ashore  from 
the  sharpness  of  the  turns.  The  Kyles  are  full  of  quiet 
beauty.  As  we  look  at  the  little  hamlets  sheltered  under 
the  wooded  hills,  they  seem  so  out  of  the  world  and  so  re- 
mote from  the  common  cares  that  burden  humanity,  that 
we  wonder  can  ordinary  sins  and  sorrows  ever  disturb 
there  the  calm  routine  of  life.  The  evening  hour  is  the 


160  THE  CLYDE 

hour  of  enchantment,  when  your  boat  gently  drifts  on  the 
slow  heaving  water.  The  voices  on  the  shore  seem  to 
reach  you  through  a  muffled  and  mysterious  air  ;  the  opales- 
cent light  in  the  sky  is  reflected  from  the  waves  that  lap 
against  the  boat ;  sweet  scents  are  wafted  from  the  hill- 
sides that  loom  solemn  in  the  gathering  darkness ;  earth's 
uneasy  passions  are  at  rest ;  for  the  young,  it  is  a  pleasant 
pause  in  the  hurly-burly ;  for  those  who  are  growing  old, 
it  is  the  time  of  memories  and  regrets. 

It  is  the  garish  light  of  day  now,  and  with  a  long  gaze  at 
the  rugged  mist-wreathed  peaks  of  Arran,  we  round  Ardla- 
mont  Point  and,  away  to  the  left,  meet  the  sparkling  waters 
and  fresh  breezes  of  Loch  Fyne. 

Tarbert,  our  first  stoppage  after  the  ferry  at  Ardlamont, 
is  one  of  the  most  noted  fishing-villages  in  the  west  of 
Scotland.  The  entrance  to  East  Loch  Tarbert,  at  which 
the  steamer  calls,  is  exceedingly  picturesque,  and  the  dis- 
trict, with  its  brown  sails  and  its  brawny  fishermen,  is  one 
much  beloved  of  artists.  Henry  Moore,  Colin  Hunter, 
David  Murray,  among  the  rest,  have  turned  its  beauties  to 
great  use.  Tarbert  is  the  great  centre  of  the  trawl  (or 
seine)  net  fishing,  which  in  Loch  Fyne,  after  much  dis- 
cussion and  many  bickerings,  has  practically  superseded  in 
the  Loch  the  old  drift-net  method.  Trawl  boats  work  in 
pairs  with  four  men  and  a  boy  in  each  boat.  Tarbert  sends 
out  between  eighty  and  ninety  boats,  and  an  exceptionally 
good  night's  catch  for  a  pair  of  trawls  is  about  four  or  five 
hundred  boxes — each  box  containing,  depending  on  the 
size  of  the  herring,  from  three  to  five  hundred  fish.  The 
men  are  sturdy,  fine-looking  fellows — and  are  fishermen 
proper,  as  distinguished  from  the  half  crofter,  half- fisher- 
men of  the  farther  North-west  Highlands.  The  fishing- 


THE  CLYDE  l6l 

fleet  going  out  before  sundown  is,  on  a  good  evening,  the 
sight  of  Tarbert,  the  brown  sails  and  the  yellow-brown 
boats  glancing  in  the  golden  light,  as  they  rush  and 
hum  through  the  clear  blue-grey  water.  Tarbert  itself, 
which  lies  principally  round  the  inner  harbour,  is  not  a  par- 
ticularly inviting  place — it  smells  generally  strongly  of 
herrings — but  the  hills  around  it  are  very  pleasant  to  ramble 
over,  and  the  walk  to  West  Loch  Tarbert  leads  through 
delightful  highland  country.  There  is  a  ruined  castle  here, 
which  dominates  the  harbour  and  is  redolent  of  memories 
of  Robert  the  Bruce,  the  builder  of  the  castle  in  1325. 
The  narrow  isthmus  that  separates  the  East  from  the  West 
Loch  has  been  more  than  once  surmounted  by  invading 
Norsemen  and  other  bold  buccaneers,  who  dragged  their 
boats  overland.  Sir  Walter  Scott  makes  use  of  this  fact  in 
The  Lord  of  the  Isles. 

At  Ardrishaig,  six  miles  beyond  Tarbert  and  on  the 
west  side  of  Loch  Gilp,  the  outward  run  of  the  Columba 
ends,  and  passengers  for  the  West  Highlands  tranship  to 
the  Linnet,  in  order  to  be  conveyed  through  the  Crinan 
Canal. 


THE  VOLGA 

ELISEE  RECLUS 

THE  rivulet  which,  at  its  farthest  source,  takes  the 
name  of  Volga,  rises  not  in  a  highland  region,  but 
in  the  midst  of  lakes,  marshes  and  low  wooded  hills,  little 
elevated  above  the  Volkosniky  Les  ("  Volkon  Forest ")  and 
Valdai  plateau,  which  may  be  taken  as  the  true  source  of 
the  stream.  The  highest  ridges  of  the  Valdai'  scarcely  rise 
220  feet  above  the  plateau,  although  the  chief  crest,  the 
Popova  Gora,  attains  an  altitude  of  1,170  feet.  The  mean 
elevation  of  the  land  is  also  sufficient  to  give  it  a  far  more 
severe  aspect  than  that  of  the  Lovat  and  Lake  Ilmen  plains 
on  the  north-west.  Its  peat  beds,  lakes  and  fir  forests  are 
more  suggestive  of  the  neighbourhood  of  Lake  Onega, 
some  300  miles  farther  north,  and  the  climate  is,  in  fact, 
about  two  degrees  colder  than  in  the  surrounding  districts. 
Yet  the  Valdai  flora  differs  on  the  whole  but  little,  if  at  all, 
from  that  of  the  plains  stretching  towards  the  great  lakes, 
whence  it  has  been  concluded  that  these  heights  are  of 
comparatively  recent  origin.  They  have  no  indigenous 
vegetation,  all  their  species  coming  from  the  region  re- 
leased from  its  icy  fetters  at  the  close  of  the  long  glacial 
epoch.  The  plateau,  now  furrowed  by  rain  and  frost, 
formed  at  that  time  a  continuation  of  the  uniform  slope  of 
the  land,  and  like  it,  was  covered  by  the  ice-fields  from 
Finland.  The  fish  of  its  lakes,  and  even  of  the  Upper 
Volga  itself,  do  not  belong  to  the  Volga  basin  proper,  which 


THE  VOLGA  163 

the  Valdai  streams  seem  to  have  only  recently  joined.  To 
judge  from  their  fauna,  the  true  origin  of  the  Volga 
should  be  sought,  not  in  the  Valdai,  but  in  Lake  Belo 
Ozero  ("  White  Lake  "),  east  of  Lagoda.  The  sturgeon 
and  sterlet  inhabit  the  Shesksna,  the  outlet  of  this  lake,  as 
they  do  in  the  middle  Volga  itself.  The  region  giving 
birth  to  the  Volga  is  one  of  the  swampiest  in  West  Russia, 
resembling  a  lowland  tract  rather  than  a  true  water-parting. 
Separated  by  a  simple  peat  bed  from  a  tributary  of  the 
Volkhov,  the  streamlet  rising  in  the  Volgino  Verkhovye, 
and  sometimes  called  the  Jordan  from  its  sacred  character, 
flows  from  a  spot  now  marked  by  the  ruins  of  a  chapel, 
thence  oozing  rather  than  flowing  from  bog  to  bog  for  a 
distance  of  about  twenty-two  miles,  when  it  successively 
traverses  three  terraced  lakes,  whose  levels  differ  only  a  few 
inches  from  the  other.  The  Jukopa,  one  of  the  southern 
affluents,  often  causes  a  back  flow  to  Lake  Peno  near  its 
course,  the  natural  fall  being  so  slight  that  the  impulse  of  a 
lateral  current  suffices  to  reverse  it.  After  leaving  Lake 
Peno,  which  is  close  to  Lake  Dvinetz,  source  of  the 
Dvina,  the  Volga  turns  eastward  to  Lake  Volgo,  where  it 
is  already  a  considerable  stream,  with  a  volume  of  from 
3,500  to  3,600  cubic  feet  per  second,  according  to  the  sea- 
sons. Three  miles  farther  down  occurs  its  first  rapid, 
where  a  dam  has  now  been  constructed,  which  during  the 
rains  converts  the  upper  valley,  with  its  lakes,  into  one  vast 
reservoir  forty-eight  miles  long,  over  one  mile  wide,  and 
containing  6,300,000  cubic  feet  of  water.  Boats  and  rafts 
are  then  able  to  descend  from  the  lake  region,  and  higher 
up  the  river  becomes  regularly  navigable.  Near  this  point 
the  Volga  is  nearly  doubled  by  the  Selijarovka  from  the 
winding  Lake  Seligen,  whose  insular  monastery  of  St. 


164  THE  VOLGA 

Nilus  is  still  visited  yearly  by  about  20,000  pilgrims.  Here 
may  be  said  to  begin  the  commercial  stream,  the  Ra,  Rhas, 
or  Rhos  of  the  ancients  and  of  the  Mordvinians,  the  Yul 
of  the  Cheremissiams,  the  Atel  or  Etil  of  the  Tatars,  the 
Tamar  of  the  Armenians — that  is  in  these  languages,  the 
"  River " — and  in  Finnish  the  Volga,  or  the  "  Holy 
River." 

Below  the  Selijarovka  it  descends  the  slopes  of  the  plateau 
through  a  series  of  thirty-five  porogi,  or  rapids,  which,  how- 
ever, do  not  stop  the  navigation,  and  beyond  the  last  of  the 
series  it  winds  unimpeded  through  the  great  Russian  low- 
lands, receiving  numerous  navigable  tributaries,  and  com- 
municating by  canal  with  the  Baltic  basin.  After  passing  the 
populous  towns  of  Tver,  Ribinsk,  Yaroslav,  and  Kostroma, 
it  is  joined  at  Niji-Novgorod  by  the  Oka,  of  nearly  equal 
volume,  and  historically  even  more  important  than  the  main 
stream.  The  Oka,  which  long  served  as  the  frontier  be- 
tween Tartar  and  Muscovite,  rises  in  the  region  of  the 
"  black  lands  "  and  throughout  a  course  of  900  miles  waters 
the  most  fertile  plains  of  Great  Russia,  bringing  to  the  Nijni 
fair  the  produce  of  Orol,  Kaluga,  Tula,  Riazan,  Tambov, 
Vladimir,  and  Moscow.  Over  1,440  yards  broad,  it  seems 
like  an  arm  of  the  sea  at  its  confluence  with  the  Volga. 
East  of  this  point  the  main  artery  is  swollen  by  other  tribu- 
taries, which,  though  as  large  as  the  Seine,  seem  insignifi- 
cant compared  with  the  mighty  Kama,  joining  it  below 
Kazan  from  the  Urals,  and  draining  an  area  at  least  equal 
in  extent  to  the  whole  of  France.  Judging  from  the  direc- 
tion of  its  course,  the  Kama  seems  to  be  the  main  stream, 
for  below  the  junction  the  united  rivers  continue  the  south- 
erly and  south-westerly  course  of  the  Kama,  whose  clear 
waters  flow  for  some  distance  before  intermingling  with  the 


THE  VOLGA  165 

grey  stream  of  the  Volga.  Below  Simbirsk  the  tributaries 
are  few  and  unimportant,  and  as  the  rainfall  is  here  also 
slight,  and  the  evaporation  considerable,  the  mean  discharge 
is  probably  as  great  at  this  place  as  at  the  delta. 

Below  the  Kama  junction  there  formerly  existed  a  vast 
lacustrine  basin,  which  has  been  gradually  filled  in  by  the 
alluvia  of  both  streams.  Here  is  the  natural  limit  of  the 
peat  region,  and  here  begins,  on  the  right  bank,  that  of  the 
steppes.  As  we  proceed  southwards  the  atmosphere  be- 
comes less  humid,  the  ground  firmer,  and  below  Simbirsk 
we  no  longer  meet  those  mossy  and  wooded  quagmires 
bound  together  by  the  tangled  roots  of  trees,  resembling 
matted  cordage.  But  even  in  the  boggy  districts  those 
floating  forests  are  slowly  disappearing  as  the  land  is  brought 
more  and  more  under  cultivation. 

Below  the  dried- up  Simbirsk  Lake  the  stream  is  deflected 
by  an  impassable  limestone  barrier  eastwards  to  Samara, 
where  it  escapes  through  a  breach  and  reverses  its  course 
along  the  southern  escarpment  of  the  hills,  thus  forming  a 
long  narrow  peninsula  projecting  from  the  western  plateau. 
Here  is  the  most  picturesque  scenery  on  the  Volga,  which 
is  now  skirted  by  steep  wooded  cliffs,  terminating  in  pyra- 
mids and  sharp  rocky  peaks.  Some  of  the  more  inaccessible 
summits  are  surmounted  by  the  so-called  "  Stenka  "  Kur- 
gans,  raised  in  memory  of  Razin,  Chief  of  the  Cossacks  and 
revolted  peasantry,  who  had  established  themselves  in  this 
natural  stronghold  of  the  Volga.  The  hills  often  rise  more 
than  300  feet  above  the  stream,  the  Beliy  Kluch,  south- 
west of  Sizran,  attaining  an  absolute  elevation  of  1,155 
feet  or  1, 120  feet  above  the  mean  level  of  the  Volga. 

The  region  of  the  delta  really  begins  at  the  Tzaritzin 
bend,  some  300  miles  from  the  Caspian,  for  the  stream 


1 66  THE  VOLGA 

here  branches  into  countless  channels  between  the  beds  of 
the  Volga  and  the  Akhtuba,  known  near  the  coast  as  the 
Bereket.  Still  the  delta,  properly  so  called,  is  formed  only 
about  thirty  miles  above  Astrakhan,  by  the  forking  of  the 
Buzan  branch  from  the  main  bed.  Near  Astrakhan  the 
Belda  and  Kutum,  and,  lower  down,  the  Tzarova,  Tzagan, 
Birul,  and  other  arms,  break  away,  and  in  the  vast  alluvial 
peninsula  projecting  into  the  Caspian,  and  which  is  at  least 
no  miles  round,  there  are  altogether  about  two  hundred 
mouths,  most  of  them,  however,  shifting  streams  choked 
with  mud.  During  the  spring  floods  all  the  delta  and  lower 
courses  below  Tzaritzin  form  one  vast  body  of  moving 
waters,  broken  only  by  a  few  islands  here  and  there,  and 
after  each  of  these  floods  new  beds  are  formed,  old  ones 
filled  up,  so  that  the  chart  of  the  delta  has  to  be  constantly 
planned  afresh.  Two  hundred  years  ago  the  navigable 
channel  flowed  due  east  from  Astrakhan  :  since  then  it  has 
shifted  continually  more  to  the  right  and  now  runs  south- 
south-west. 

Without  including  the  shorter  windings,  the  Volga  has  a 
total  length  of  2,230  miles,  presenting  with  its  tributaries, 
about  7,200  miles  of  navigable  waters.  From  the  sources 
of  the  Kama  to  the  delta,  these  waters  cross  sixteen  paral- 
lels of  latitude,  and  nine  isothermal  degrees,  so  that  while 
the  mean  annual  temperature  of  the  region  is  at  freezing 
point,  it  oscillates  about  9°  in  the  delta.  At  Astrakhan  the 
Volga  is  frozen  for  about  ninety-eight  days,  and  at  Kazan 
for  one  hundred  and  fifty-two,  while  the  Kama  is  ice-bound 
for  six  months  at  the  junction  of  the  Chusovaya  above 
Perm.  The  rainfall  of  the  basin  is  about  sixteen  inches, 
which  would  give  700,000  cubic  feet  per  second,  were  all 
the  moisture  to  be  carried  off  by  the  bed  of  the  Volga. 


THE  VOLGA  167 

But  much  is  absorbed  by  vegetation  in  the  forests  and 
steppes  and  in  the  latter  region  direct  evaporation  may 
dissipate  about  forty  inches  during  the  year  in  tracts  fully 
exposed  to  the  winds. 

Altogether  about  three-fourths  of  the  rainfall  are  thus 
lost  en  route,  and  preliminary  estimates  have  determined  the 
mean  discharge  at  about  203,000  cubic  feet,  which  is  less 
than  two-thirds  of  that  of  the  Danube,  draining  an  area 
scarcely  half  as  large  as  that  of  the  Russian  River. 

The  volume  of  water  discharged  by  the  Volga,  which  is 
at  least  equal  to  that  of  all  the  other  influents  of  the  Caspian 
together,  is  sufficient  to  exercise  a  considerable  influence  on 
the  level  of  the  sea.  Thus  the  floods  of  1867,  the  heaviest 
that  had  occurred  for  forty  years,  raised  it  by  more  than 
two  feet,  the  abnormal  excess  representing  9,600  billions 
of  cubic  feet,  or  about  three  times  the  volume  of  the  Lake 
of  Geneva.  On  the  other  hand,  the  delta  steadily  en- 
croaches on  the  sea,  though  at  a  rate  which  it  is  almost  impos- 
sible to  determine.  The  sedimentary  matter  held  in  solution, 
estimated  by  Mrczkovski  at  about  the  two-thousandth  part 
of  the  fluid,  continues  to  form  islands  and  sand-banks, 
while  generally  raising  the  bed  of  the  sea  round  the  face  of 
the  delta. 

The  Volga  abounds  in  fish,  and  the  fishing  industry  sup- 
ports a  large  number  of  hands.  Its  lower  reaches  espe- 
cially form  for  the  whole  of  Russia  a  vast  reservoir  of  food, 
varying  with  the  seasons,  and  yielding  large  quantities  even 
in  winter  by  means  of  holes  broken  in  the  ice  at  certain 
intervals. 

On  the  islands  of  the  delta  are  numerous  stations  where 
the  fish  is  cut  up,  and  the  roe  prepared  to  be  converted  into 
fresh  and  salt  caviar.  The  bieluga  and  the  sterlet,  both  of 


168  THE  VOLGA 

the  sturgeon  family,  attain  the  greatest  size,  and  are  the 
most  highly  esteemed,  but  their  number  seems  to  have  di- 
minished since  the  appearance  of  the  steamboat  in  these 
waters. 


THE  CONGO 

J.  HOWARD    REED 

THE  Congo  is  not  only  the  largest  river  of  the  "  Dark 
Continent,"  but  is  second  only  in  point  of  size  and 
volume  to  the  majestic  Amazon  of  South  America.  It 
may,  therefore,  truly  be  called  the  largest  river  of  the  Old 
World. 

On  referring  to  the  latest  maps  of  Africa  we  find  that 
the  most  distant  source  of  the  Congo  is  to  be  found  in  the 
River  Chambeze,  which  rises  about  midway  between  the 
south  end  of  Lake  Tanganyika  and  the  north  end  of 
Lake  Nyasa,  at  a  height  of  4,750  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea.  Taking  a  south-westerly  course,  this  stream  flows 
for  some  250  miles,  until  it  reaches  a  huge  depression, 
where  it  forms  a  lake,  known  to  the  natives  by  the  name 
Bangweolo.  This  lake  is  about  115  miles  long  by  from 
forty  to  sixty  miles  wide,  with  an  area  of  from  6,000  to 
7,000  square  miles.  At  the  south-west  corner  of  Bang- 
weolo the  river  emerges,  having  a  width  equal  to  that  of 
the  Thames  at  London  Bridge,  and  flows  northward  under 
the  name  of  Luapula.  About  200  miles  further  to  the 
north  Lake  Moero,  with  an  area  of  about  3,500  square 
miles,  is  reached.  From  the  north  end  of  this  lake  the  river 
again  issues,  flowing  away  generally  in  a  northward  direc- 
tion. 

At  a  point  about  200  miles  from  Lake  Moero  the  river, 
known  from  the  lake  to  this  point  as  the  Luwa,  is  joined 


IJO  THE  CONGO 

by  another  stream  of  much  larger  size,  which  rises  some 
500  miles  to  the  south-west,  and  is  known  as  the  Lualaba. 
Both  these  branches  of  the  main  river,  from  their  sources  to 
this  point,  have,  of  course,  had  their  volumes  greatly  in- 
creased by  the  innumerable  tributary  streams  flowing  into 
them  from  the  hills  and  highlands  on  either  side.  The 
two  great  rivers  are  now  united  into  one  majestic  stream, 
which,  bearing  the  name  of  Lualaba,  continues  its  flow  in 
a  north-north-westerly  direction.  A  little  above  the  point  of 
junction  the  river  receives,  on  its  eastern  side,  the  Lukuga 
River,  which  drains  the  surplus  waters  of  Lake  Tanganyika 
and  its  tributaries,  and  augments  the  mighty  volume  of  the 
main  river. 

When  we  remember  that  Lake  Tanganyika  is  400  miles 
long,  from  twenty  to  forty  miles  broad,  has  an  area  of 
12,650  square  miles,  and  is  fed  by  tributaries  which  drain 
about  70,000  square  miles  of  country,  we  can  form  some 
idea  of  the  enormous  body  of  water  which  is  added  to  the 
main  stream  by  the  Lukuga  River. 

About  100  miles  to  the  north  of  where  the  Lukuga  joins 
the  Lualaba,  namely,  at  the  Arab  settlement  of  Nyangwe, 
the  main  river  is  more  than  a  mile  wide,  with  a  volume  and 
velocity,  according  to  Stanley,  of  230,000  cubit  feet  of 
water  per  second.  About  300  miles  to  the  north  of 
Nyangwe  are  to  be  found  the  Stanley  Falls,  where  the 
river,  augmented  by  the  discharged  waters  of  a  number  of 
important  tributary  streams,  dashes  itself  madly  down  a 
series  of  wild  rapids  and  terrible  cataracts.  These  falls  ex- 
tend for  a  distance  of  from  sixty  to  seventy  miles.  From 
this  point  the  majestic  river  begins  to  turn  slightly  to  the 
westward,  and,  continuing  its  course  first  north-west,  then 
west,  and  finally  south-west — in  the  form  of  a  gigantic 


COPYRIGHT  BY  UNDERWOOD  &  UNDERWOOD,  N.  Y. 

THE    CONGO 


THE  CONGO  171 

horseshoe — reaches,  after  a  thousand  miles'  uninterrupted 
flow,  the  open  expanse  of  Stanley  Pool.  Between  Stanley 
Falls  and  Stanley  Pool  the  volume  of  the  great  river  is  still 
further  increased  by  the  addition  of  the  waters  of  a  great 
number  of  large  tributary  streams,  many  of  which  are 
themselves  extensive  rivers,  draining  many  thousands  of 
square  miles  of  territory,  and  navigable  for  several  hundred 
miles. 

Among  the  great  tributaries  should  be  mentioned  specially 
the  following  ;  the  Aruwimi,  noted  as  the  scene  of  the  ter- 
rible sufferings  of  the  famous  Emin  Pasha  relief  expedition  ; 
the  Ubangi,  or  Welle-Makua,  which  is  itself  a  mighty  river, 
rising  away  in  the  "  Heart  of  Africa,"  and  flowing  some 
1,200  miles  before  it  joins  the  main  stream.  On  the  south 
bank  may  be  named  the  Lubilash  or  Boloko,  navigable  for 
200  miles  ;  the  Lulongo,  with  its  branches — the  Lopori  and 
Maringa — navigated  for  500  miles  by  the  Rev.  George 
Grenfell ;  the  Chuapa,  with  its  branch,  the  Busera,  up  which 
Mr.  Grenfell  has  also  steamed  some  500  miles.  To  these 
may  be  added  the  Kwa,  which  with  its  tributaries — the 
Lukenye,  the  Kasai,  the  Sankurn,  the  Kwango,  and  a 
number  of  others — adds  enormously  to  the  volume  of 
the  Congo,  and  affords  some  1,500  miles  of  navigable 
water. 

The  great  river  from  Stanley  Falls  to  Stanley  Pool  has 
an  average  width  of  some  five  miles,  but  in  places  it  reaches 
as  much  as  sixteen  miles  wide,  and  is  split  up  into  separate 
channels  by  large  islands,  with  which  its  bosom  is  studded. 
After  passing  through  Stanley  Pool  the  river  ceases  to  be 
navigable  for  about  235  miles — except  for  one  comparatively 
short  break  of  eighty  miles — owing  to  the  angry  cataracts 
known  as  the  Livingstone  Falls.  Below  the  falls  the  river 


172  THE  CONGO 

again  becomes  navigable  to  the  Atlantic  Ocean,  some  no 
miles  distant. 

The  majestic  river  rushes  with  such  an  enormous  vol- 
ume into  the  open  ocean  that,  for  many  miles  out  at  sea, 
its  stream  can  be  distinctly  traced,  and  its  waters  remain 
fresh,  refusing  for  a  long  time  to  become  contaminated  by 
the  salt  of  the  mighty  waste  of  waters. 

The  main  river  and  its  tributaries  have  already  been  ex- 
plored for  at  least  11,000  miles.  This,  of  course,  gives  a 
length  of  river  banks  of  no  less  than  22,000  miles.  It  can 
be  better  grasped  what  this  means  when  we  remember  that 
the  whole  coast-line  of  Europe,  following  every  indentation 
of  the  shore — from  the  most  northern  point  of  Norway  to 
the  spot  in  the  Black  Sea  where  the  Caucasus  Mountains 
separate  Europe  from  Asia — is  only  17,000  miles,  or  5,000 
miles  less  than  the  total  length  of  river  banks  past 
which  the  mighty  Congo  continually  sweeps.  To  give 
another  illustration,  I  may  remind  you  that  the  circumfer- 
ence of  the  globe  on  which  we  live  is  24,000  miles.  So 
that  the  length  of  the  banks  of  the  Congo — so  far  as  they 
are  at  present  known — only  falls  some  2,000  miles  short  of 
the  total  girth  of  our  planet.  When  the  great  river  be- 
comes more  completely  known  the  extent  of  the  river's 
banks  may  probably  be  found  to  equal,  and  very  possibly  to 
exceed,  the  earth's  circumference. 

The  total  length  of  the  main  river — omitting  the 
branches — from  source  to  mouth  is  close  upon  three  thou- 
sand miles,  equal  to  the  distance  from  Liverpool  to  New 
York. 

The  area  of  territory  drained  is  something  over  1,500,000 
square  miles,  or  equal,  roughly  speaking,  to  about  one- 
eight  of  the  whole  continent  of  Africa.  It  exceeds  the 


THE  CONGO  173 

total  area  of  India  by  200,000  square  miles,  and  would 
only  be  equalled  by  thirty-two  Englands.  It  is  needless 
to  quote  further  figures  in  order  to  impress  upon  us  the 
enormous  extent  and  importance  of  Africa's  greatest  water- 
way. 

The  wide-spreading  arms  of  the  Congo  reach  themselves 
out  on  all  sides  to  such  a  distance  and  extent  that  the  re- 
mote headwaters,  or  fountains,  overlap  and  almost  inter- 
mingle with  the  streams  which  contribute  their  waters  to 
the  other  great  rivers  of  the  continent.  On  the  north-west 
we  find  some  of  the  early  streams  flowing  almost  from  the 
same  sources  which  supply  tributaries  of  the  Niger  and 
the  Shari.  In  the  north-east  we  find  the  remote  tribu- 
taries of  the  Welle-Makua  almost  touching  those  of  the 
Bahr-el-Ghazal,  which  helps  to  swell  the  Nile.  The  head- 
waters of  the  Aruwimi,  again,  flow  from  within  a  few 
minutes'  walk  of  where  a  view  can  be  obtained  of  the 
Albert  Lake,  also  belonging  to  the  Nile  system.  The 
Malagarazi  River,  which  flows  into  Lake  Tanganyika,  and 
so  finds  its  way  to  the  Congo,  rises  in  the  same  hills  which 
gave  birth  to  the  Alexandra  Nile,  a  western  affluent  to 
Lake  Victoria.  We  find,  also,  many  of  the  great  tribu- 
taries on  the  southern  bank  of  the  Congo  flow  from  high- 
lands which  also  pay  tribute  to  streams  flowing  to  the 
Zambezi. 

In  comparison  with  the  historic  tales  the  Nile  and  Niger 
have  to  tell  us,  the  story  of  the  Congo  is  only  very  modern. 
The  early  history  of  the  great  river  is  very  meagre  indeed, 
and  we  search  the  ancient  classics  in  vain  for  any  mention 
of  even  its  existence. 

The  river  was,  and  is  to  this  day,  known  to  the  Portu- 
guese as  the  Zaire,  but  the  actual  meaning  of  the  word  is 


174  THE  CONGO 

doubtful.  Some  consider  it  to  simply  mean  river.  The 
country  through  which  the  great  river  flows  was  known  to 
the  Portuguese  as  the  kingdom  of  the  Congo.  The  Zaire, 
therefore,  appeared  upon  the  early  Portuguese  maps  as  Rio 
de  Congo,  which,  when  translated,  became,  of  course,  on 
English  maps,  River  of  Congo,  and  finally  simply  Congo, 
as  we  now  know  it. 

Although  the  mouth  of  the  Congo  was  discovered  by  the 
Portuguese  over  four  hundred  years  ago,  very  little  was 
known  of  the  geography  of  the  river  itself  until  our  own 
century.  Jesuit  missionaries  certainly  settled  in  the 
kingdom  of  the  Congo,  and  they  doubtless  collected  much 
information  from  the  native  travellers  regarding  the  geog- 
raphy of  the  interior. 

The  English  geographer,  Peter  Heylyn,  writing  in  1657, 
speaks  of  the  Zaire,  or  River  of  Congo,  rising  in  Lake 
Zembre.  After  naming  the  rivers  of  the  Country  of 
Congo,  he  goes  on  to  say  :  "  This  last  (the  Zaire),  the 
greatest  of  them  all,  if  not  of  all  Africk  also  :  Of  which, 
though  we  have  spoke  already,  we  shall  add  this  here,  that 
it  falleth  into  the  JEth'iopic  Sea  with  so  great  violence,  that 
for  ten  miles  commonly,  for  fifteen  sometimes,  the  Waters 
of  it  do  retain  their  natural  sweetness :  not  intermingled 
nor  corrupted  with  the  Salt  Sea-water  :  Nor  can  the  people 
sail  above  five  miles  against  the  stream  of  the  cataracts, 
or  huge  falls  which  it  hath  from  the  Mountains ;  more 
terrible  and  turbulent  than  those  of  the  Nile." 

The  great  discoveries  connected  with  the  Congo  have 
been  in  almost  all  cases  the  result  of  inquiries  set  on  foot 
for  other  purposes,  and  not  the  outcome  of  direct  research. 
This  is  especially  the  case  with  regard  to  the  long  and 
tedious  wanderings  of  Dr.  Livingstone,  between  the  years 


THE  CONGO  175 

1866  and  1873,  which  terminated  only  in'  his  death  in  the 
latter  year.  When  Livingstone  started  upon  his  last  and 
greatest  expedition  in  1866,  it  was  with  the  idea  of  clearing 
up  certain  doubtful  points  connected  with  Lakes  Tangan- 
yika and  Nyasa,  and  of  establishing,  if  possible,  the 
southern  limit  of  the  Nile  watershed.  He  had  no  inten- 
tion of  working  at  the  Congo  at  all,  and,  in  fact,  remarks 
in  his  journal,  in  a  half  jocular  manner,  that  he  had  no 
desire  to  become  "  blackman's  meat  "  for  anything  less  than 
the  Nile. 

Stanley's  great  journey  from  Nyangwe  to  Boma  made 
known,  of  course,  only  the  main  stream  of  the  river,  but 
it  opened  the  way,  and  from  that  day  down  to  the  present 
a  whole  legion  of  travellers,  both  British  and  European, 
have  devoted  themselves  to  the  filling  in  of  the  details. 
The  great  traveller  himself  shortly  after  discovered  lakes 
Leopold  II.  and  Mantumba;  and  so  recently  as  1887  ex- 
plored the  great  Aruwimi  territory,  following  it  to  its 
source  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Albert  Lake,  when 
engaged  in  his  last  great  journey  through  "  Darkest 
Africa." 

The  Nineteenth  Century  has  been  what  we  may  call 
the  age  of  discovery,  so  far  as  the  Congo  is  concerned. 
The  geography  of  the  river  is  now  fairly  well  known,  the 
discoveries  of  the  past  twenty  years  having  undoubtedly 
transcended  all  possible  expectations  or  even  conceptions. 
The  next  century  will  in  all  probability  be  one  of  Congo 
commerce  and  Congo  engineering.  Already  we  find  a 
railway  some  250  miles  in  length,  in  course  of  con- 
struction, which,  when  completed,  will  overcome  the 
natural  difficulties  of  transport  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  Livingstone  Falls,  and  throw  open  to  the  world  the 


176  THE  CONGO 

mighty  natural  highway  to  the  heart  of  the  Continent. 
Already  we  find,  in  spite  of  the  difficulties  of  the  cataract 
region,  that  some  thirty  odd  steamers  are  daily  ploughing 
their  way  up  and  down  the  Congo's  giant  stream.  Thus 
has  the  great  river  begun  the  work  of  bearing  the  naturally 
rich  products  of  the  Congo  basin  to  the  coast,  and  of 
carrying  the  return  commodities  into  the  interior. 

The  work  of  the  explorer,  the  trader,  and  the  mission- 
ary is  already  beginning  to  bear  fruit.  In  their  wake  will 
follow  civilization,  commerce  and  Christianity.  Cities — 
centres  of  industry  and  light — will  be  founded,  and  in  due 
time  the  peoples  of  the  "  Heart  of  Africa  "  will  take  their 
place  in  the  progress  of  the  world. 


THE  MACKENZIE  RIVER 

WILLIAM  OGILVIE 

TTORT  McPHERSON  stands  on  a  high  bank  of  gravel 
JL  and  slate,  on  the  east  side  of  the  Peel  River,  about 
fourteen  miles  above  the  point  where  it  divides  and  joins 
the  Mackenzie  delta,  which  is  common  to  both  rivers. 
The  height  of  this  bank  rapidly  decreases  towards  the 
mouth  of  the  river,  where  it  almost  entirely  disappears. 
The  country  surrounding  has  evidently  at  one  time  been 
a  part  of  the  Arctic  Ocean  which  has  been  gradually  filled 
up  with  alluvial  deposits  brought  down  by  the  two  rivers. 

On  this  rich  soil,  the  timber,  mostly  spruce,  with  some 
tamarack,  birch  and  poplar,  is,  for  the  latitude,  very  large. 
When  I  arrived  at  Fort  McPherson,  on  the  2Oth  of  June, 
the  new  buds  on  the  trees  were  just  perceptible,  and  on  the 
evening  of  the  22d,  when  I  left,  the  trees  were  almost  fully 
in  leaf. 

Between  Peel  River  and  the  Mackenzie  about  two-thirds 
of  the  channel  in  the  delta  averages  more  than  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  wide ;  the  remainder  about  one  hundred  yards.  All 
of  it  was  deep  when  I  passed  through,  and  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company's  steamer,  Wrigley,  drawing  five  feet  of 
water,  finds  no  difficulty  in  navigating  it.  The  banks  do 
not  rise  more  than  ten  or  fifteen  feet  above  the  water,  and 
the  current  is  continually  wearing  away  the  soft  deposit  and 
carrying  it  down  to  the  lower  part  of  the  delta  and  to  the 
Arctic  Ocean. 


178  THE  MACKENZIE  RIVER 

Where  we  enter  the  Mackenzie  proper,  the  channel  is 
three-fourths  of  a  mile  wide,  but  it  is  only  one  of  four, 
there  being  three  large  islands  at  this  point.  The  whole 
width  of  the  river  cannot  be  less  than  three  or  four  miles. 
Looking  northward,  down  the  westerly  channel,  the  view 
is  bounded  by  the  sky,  and  widens  in  the  distance  so  that 
one  can  fancy  he  is  looking  out  to  sea. 

A  north  wind  raises  quite  a  swell  here,  and  the  salty  odour 
of  the  sea  air  is  plainly  perceptible  above  the  delta.  The 
banks  continue  low,  and  the  country  flat  on  both  sides  of 
the  river,  for  some  nine  or  ten  miles  above  the  islands. 
The  shore  on  the  east  side  is  sloping,  while  that  on  the 
west  is  generally  perpendicular,  showing  the  action  of  the 
current,  which  is  wearing  into  and  carrying  away  portions 
of  it.  This  form  of  bank  changes  into  steep  shale  rock  on 
both  sides,  gradually  increasing  in  height  as  far  as  the  Nar- 
rows, where  they  are  probably  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
above  the  water. 

On  the  Mackenzie  I  did  not  stay  long  enough  to  learn 
much  about  the  Indians  in  the  district,  nor  did  I  see  many 
of  them.  While  we  were  in  the  delta,  nine  large  boats 
loaded  with  Esquimaux  from  the  coast  passed  us  on  the 
way  up  to  Fort  McPherson  to  do  their  trading  for  the  sea- 
son, in  one  of  which  I  noticed  a  young  woman  devouring 
a  raw  musk-rat  with  evident  relish.  These  people  come 
up  from  the  coast  in  "  skin  "  boats,  called  oumiaks^  made, 
it  is  said,  of  whale  skin  put  round  a  wood  frame.  These 
boats  present  a  very  neat  appearance,  and  are  capable  of  car- 
rying about  two  tons  each.  Whale  oil  is  one  of  the  princi- 
pal articles  which  they  bring  in  for  sale. 

A  few  miles  above  the  Narrows  the  banks  change  from 
rock  to  clay  and  gravel,  and  continue  generally  steep  and 


THE  MACKENZIE  RIVER  179 

high  as  far  as  Fort  Good  Hope.  In  a  few  places  the  bank 
recedes  from  the  river  for  a  short  distance,  forming  a  low 
flat,  on '  which  generally  grows  some  fair  spruce  timber. 
No  rivers  of  importance  flow  into  the  Mackenzie  between 
Red  and  Hare  Indian  Rivers.  One  hundred  and  thirty 
miles  further  on,  Loon  River  enters  from  the  east,  and, 
twenty  miles  above  this  Hare  Indian  River  also  enters  from 
the  same  side.  The  Indians  report  that  Hare  Indian  River 
rises  in  a  range  of  hills  on  the  north-west  side  of  Great 
Bear  Lake,  but  about  its  navigability  I  could  learn  nothing. 

We  reached  Fort  Good  Hope  on  Saturday,  the  24th  of 
July,  and  remained  over  Sunday.  The  Fort  is  built  on  the 
east  side  of  the  Mackenzie,  about  two  miles  above  Hare 
Indian  River,  and  two  below  the  "  Ramparts."  The  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company  has  quite  a  large  establishment  at  this 
point,  consisting  of  half  a  dozen  houses  and  some  stables. 
The  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  a  flourishing  mission 
here,  and  the  church  is  said  to  possess  one  of  the  best  fin- 
ished interiors  in  the  country. 

Two  miles  above  the  Fort  we  enter  what  is  known  in 
the  vicinity  as  the  "  Ramparts,"  though  in  the  more 
south-westerly  it  would  be  called  a  "Cafion."  Here, 
for  a  distance  of  seven  miles,  the  river  runs  perpendicular 
and  occasionally  over  hanging  walls  of  rock.  At  the  lower 
end  they  rise  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  water. 
But  their  height  decreases  as  we  near  the  upper  end,  at 
which  point  they  are  not  more  than  fifty  or  sixty  feet. 
The  river,  at  the  lower  end  of  the  "  Ramparts,"  is  nearly  a 
mile  wide,  but  its  walls  gradually  converge  until,  about 
three  miles  up,  the  width  is  not  more  than  half  a  mile,  and 
this  continues  to  the  end.  Sir  Alexander  Mackenzie,  when 
passing  through,  sounded  at  its  upper  end,  and  found  three 


l8o  THE  MACKENZIE  RIVER 

hundred  feet  of  water,  which  accounts  for  the  fact  that 
although  the  Canon  is  so  narrow  the  current  is  not  per- 
ceptibly increased. 

When  Mackenzie  discovered  and  explored  this  river  in 
1789,  he  met  some  Indians  a  short  distance  above  this 
place.  After  confidence  had  been  established  by  means  of 
presents,  he  prepared  to  start  onward;  and,  although  his 
newly-made  friends  told  him  there  was  great  danger 
ahead  in  the  form  of  a  rapid  or  cataract  which  would  swal- 
low him  and  his  party  without  fail,  he  continued,  the  Indi- 
ans following  and  warning  him  of  his  danger.  He  advanced 
cautiously  into  the  "  Ramparts,"  but  could  hear  or  see 
nothing  to  verify  their  statements.  At  last,  when  through, 
they  admitted  that  the  only  bad  weather  to  be  encountered 
was  now  passed,  but  that  behind  the  island  just  below  was 
a  bad  spirit  or  monster  which  would  devour  the  whole 
party :  failing  there,  the  next  island  below  would  surely 
reveal  him. 

From  this  incident  the  two  islands  have  received  the 
names  of  Upper  and  Lower  Manitou,  respectively. 

Forty-eight  miles  from  Fort  Good  Hope,  Sans  Sault 
Rapid  is  reached.  It  is  caused  by  a  ledge  of  rocks  extend- 
ing partially  across  the  river. 

A  ridge  of  hills  here  extend  beyond  the  river  from  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  occasional  glimpses  of  which  can  be 
caught  from  the  water. 

Just  above  this  the  Mackenzie  turns  sharply  to  the  east 
from  its  southerly  course,  and  skirts  the  base  of  the  moun- 
tains for  six  miles.  Its  course  then  curves  a  little  to  the 
south,  when,  what  might  be  termed  a  canon,  is  entered, 
which  extends  for  nine  or  ten  miles.  The  river  here  aver- 
ages a  mile  in  width,  and  is  walled  on  both  sides  by  perpen- 


THE  MACKENZIE  RIVER  l8l 

dicular  limestone  cliffs,  rising  from  one  to  two  hundred  feet 
above  the  water.  On  the  south  side,  this  wall  terminates 
in  what  is  known  as  "  Wolverine  Rock,"  which  rises  per- 
pendicularly from  the  water  to  a  height  of  three  hundred 
feet.  The  formation  is  limestone,  the  strata  of  which 
stand  almost  on  edge,  and  the  water  has  worn  through  them 
in  several  places,  so  that  one  can  sail  underneath.  Above 
this  point  the  mountains  again  approach  the  river  for  a  few 
miles,  when  they  suddenly  drop  almost  to  the  level  of  the 
plain.  The  banks  here  are  clay  and  gravel,  with  an  aver- 
age height  of  from  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet. 

Six  and  one-half  miles  above  Sans  Sault  Rapids,  Car- 
cajou River  empties  its  waters  into  the  Mackenzie  from 
the  west.  This  river  I  believe  to  be  the  largest  tributary 
of  the  Mackenzie  below  the  Laird. 

Four  hundred  and  forty-four  miles  from  Fort  McPherson 
brought  us  to  Fort  Norman,  which  is  situated  on  the  east 
bank  of  the  Mackenzie  just  above  the  entrance  of  Great 
Bear  River.  I  arrived  here  on  Saturday,  the  28th  of  July. 

About  three  and  a  half  miles  above  Fort  Norman  on  the 
east  bank  of  the  river,  two  extensive  exposures  of  lignite 
occur.  The  upper  one  is  overlaid  by  about  fifty  feet  of 
clay  and  a  few  feet  of  friable  sandstone,  and  is  about  fifteen 
feet  thick.  The  other  seam  is  of  about  the  same  thick- 
ness, and  probably  forty  feet  lower.  When  I  was  there,  it 
was  nearly  all  under  water. 

The  upper  seam  has  been  on  fire  for  over  a  hundred  years^ 
as  it  was  burning  when  Sir  Alexander  Mackenzie  passed  in 
1789,  and  according  to  Indian  tradition,  it  must  have  been 
burning  much  longer.  The  place  is  locally  known  as  "  Le 
Boucan,"  from  the  fact  that  the  Indians  hereabout  smoke 


182  THE  MACKENZIE  RIVER 

and  cook  large  quantities  of  meat  or  fish  in  these  convenient 
fire  pits.  The  fire  extends  at  present  about  two  miles 
along  the  river,  not  continuously,  but  at  intervals ;  when  I 
passed,  it  was  burning  in  three  or  four  places.  After  it  has 
burned  a  certain  distance  into  the  seam,  the  overlaying 
mass  of  clay  falls  in,  and,  to  some  extinct,  suppresses  the 
fire.  This  clay  is,  in  time,  baked  into  a  red  coloured  rock, 
in  which  are  found  innumerable  impressions  of  leaves  and 
plants. 

About  a  hundred  miles  above  Fort  Norman,  on  the 
west  side,  a  river  discharges  a  large  volume  of  clear, 
black  water,  which  rushes  bodily  half-way  across  the 
Mackenzie,  and  preserves  its  distinctive  character  for 
several  miles  before  it  mingles  with  the  main  stream.  The 
name  applied  to  this  river  by  the  people  at  Fort  Wrigley 
was  "  La  riviere  du  vieux  grand  luc."  It  is  said  to 
flow  out  of  a  lake  of  considerable  extent,  lying  not  far 
from  the  Mackenzie.  Many  peaks  can  be  seen  up  its 
valley. 

Six  hundred  and  twenty-four  miles  from  Fort  McPherson 
brings  us  to  Fort  \Vrigley.  This  post  was  formerly  known 
as  "  Little  Rapid,"  but  has  received  the  name  it  now  bears 
in  honour  of  Chief  Commissioner  Wrigley,  of  the  Hud- 
son's Bay  Company.  Just  above  the  Fort  there  is  a  swift 
rush  of  water  over  some  limestone  rock  which  appears  to 
extend  across  the  river.  On  the  west  side  two  small  islands 
confine  a  part  of  the  stream  in  a  funnel-like  channel,  which, 
being  shallow,  causes  a  slight  rapid,  and  gives  rise  to  the 
former  name  of  the  post. 

At  Fort  Wrigley,  some  slight  attempts  had  been  made  at 
cultivation,  but  I  do  not  consider  them  a  fair  test  of  the 
capabilities  of  the  place.  When  I  was  there,  the  people 


THE  MACKENZIE  RIVER  183 

were  gathering  blueberries,  then  fully  ripe,  and  as  large  and 
well-flavoured  as  they  are  in  Ontario.  Ripe  strawberries 
were  found  on  the  gth  of  August  ninety  miles  below  this, 
and  a  few  raspberries  soon  afterwards.  Above  Fort  Wrig- 
ley,  wild  gooseberries,  and  both  red  and  black  currants  were 
found  in  abundance  ;  some  of  the  islands  being  literally  cov- 
ered with  the  bushes. 

For  about  sixty  miles  below  Fort  Wrigley  a  range  of 
mountains  runs  parallel  to  the  river  on  its  east  side.  Above 
Fort  Wrigley  the  east  bank  is  generally  low  and  swampy, 
but  the  west  (although  low  near  the  river)  gradually  rises  to  a 
height  of  seven  or  eight  hundred  feet.  Fifty-eight  miles 
above  Fort  Wrigley  this  hill  terminates  in  a  bold,  high 
point,  and  the  ridge  turns  off  to  the  south-west,  enclosing  a 
deep,  wide  valley  between  it  and  the  mountains,  which  here 
approach  the  river.  This  range  continues  south-eastward 
out  of  sight.  The  positions  and  heights  of  some  of  the 
peaks  were  determined  by  triangulation.  One  of  them  was 
found  to  rise  4,675  feet  above  the  river. 

We  arrived  at  Fort  Simpson  on  Friday,  the  24th  of  Au- 
gust, and  remained  until  the  following  Tuesday. 

We  arrived  at  Fort  Providence  on  Saturday,  the  8th  of 
September.  Wild  gooseberries  and  currants  were  plentiful 
along  the  banks,  but  at  this  season  somewhat  over-ripe. 
At  the  fort,  where  we  remained  over  Sunday,  the  usual  col- 
lection of  buildings  at  a  Hudson  Bay  Company's  post  is  to 
be  found.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church  has  also  a  mission 
here. 

Forty-six  miles  from  Fort  Providence  we  enter  Great 
Slave  Lake.  The  south  shore  of  the  lake,  between  the 
Mackenzie  and  Great  Slave  Rivers,  is  so  low  and  flat  that 
most  of  it  was  submerged  when  I  passed.  Fish  are  numer- 


184  THE  MACKENZIE  RIVER 

ous  in  the  Mackenzie.  The  principal  species  is  that 
known  as  the  "  Inconnu."  Those  caught  in  the  lower 
river  are  very  good  eating,  much  resembling  salmon  in 
taste,  being  also  firm  and  juicy. 


THE  LOIRE 

VICTOR  HUGO 

I  HAVE  some  recollection  of  having  already  said  so  else- 
where :  the  Loire  and  Touraine  have  been  far  too 
much  praised.  It  is  time  to  render  justice.  The  Seine 
is  much  more  beautiful  than  the  Loire ;  Normandy  is 
a  much  more  charming  "  garden  "  than  Touraine. 

A  broad,  yellow  strip  of  water,  flat  banks,  and  poplars 
everywhere — that  is  the  Loire.  The  poplar  is  the  only 
tree  that  is  stupid.  It  masks  all  the  horizons  of  the  Loire. 
Along  the  river  and  on  the  islands,  on  the  edge  of  the  dyke 
and  far  away  in  the  distance,  one  sees  only  poplars.  In  my 
mind  there  is  a  strangely  intimate  relationship,  a  strangely 
indefinable  resemblance,  between  a  landscape  made  up  of 
poplars  and  a  tragedy  written  in  Alexandrines.  The  pop- 
lar, like  the  Alexandrine,  is  one  of  the  classic  forms  of 
boredom. 

It  rained ;  I  had  passed  a  sleepless  night.  I  do  not  know 
whether  that  put  me  out  of  temper,  but  everything  on  the 
Loire  seemed  to  me  cold,  dull,  methodical,  monotonous, 
formal,  and  lugubrious. 

From  time  to  time  one  meets  convoys  of  five  or  six  small 
craft  ascending  or  descending  the  river.  Each  vessel  has 
but  one  mast  with  a  square  sail.  The  one  that  has  the  big- 
gest sail  precedes  the  others  and  tows  them.  The  convoy 
is  arranged  in  such  a  fashion  that  the  sails  grow  smaller  in 
size  from  one  boat  to  the  other,  from  the  first  to  the  last, 


1 86  THE  LOIRE 

with  a  sort  of  symmetric  decrease  unbroken  by  any  uneven- 
ness,  undisturbed  by  any  vagary.  One  involuntarily  recalls 
the  caricature  of  the  English  family;  one  might  imagine 
one  saw  a  chromatic  scale  sweeping  along  under  full 
sail.  I  have  seen  this  only  on  the  Loire ;  and  I  confess 
that  I  prefer  the  Norman  sloops  and  luggers,  of  all 
shapes  and  sizes,  flying  like  birds  of  prey,  and  ming- 
ling their  yellow  and  red  sails  with  the  squall,  the  rain,  and 
the  sun,  between  Quillebosuf  and  Tancarville. 

The  Spaniards  call  the  Manzanares  "  the  viscount  of 
waterways  " ;  I  suggest  that  the  Loire  be  called  "  the  dow- 
ager of  rivers." 

The  Loire  has  not,  like  the  Seine  and  the  Rhine,  a  host 
of  pretty  towns  and  lovely  villages  built  on  the  very  edge 
of  the  river  and  mirroring  their  gables,  church-spires,  and 
house-fronts  in  the  water.  The  Loire  flows  through  a 
great  alluvion  caused  by  the  floods  and  called  La  Sologne. 
It  carries  back  from  it  the  sand  which  its  waters  bear  down 
and  which  often  encumber  and  obstruct  its  bed.  Hence 
the  frequent  risings  and  inundations  in  these  low  plains 
which  thrust  back  the  villages.  On  the  right  bank  they 
hide  themselves  behind  the  dyke.  But  there  they  are  almost 
lost  to  sight.  The  wayfarer  does  not  see  them. 

Nevertheless,  the  Loire  has  its  beauties.  Madame  de 
Stael,  banished  by  Napoleon  to  fifty  leagues'  distance  from 
Paris,  learned  that  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire,  exactly  fifty 
leagues  from  Paris,  there  was  a  chateau  called,  I  believe, 
Chaumont.  It  was  thither  that  she  repaired,  not  wishing 
to  aggravate  her  exile  by  a  quarter  of  a  league.  I  do  not 
commiserate  her.  Chaumont  is  a  dignified  and  lordly 
dwelling.  The  chateau  which  must  date  from  the  Six- 
teenth Century,  is  fine  in  style;  the  towers  are  massive. 


fc 


THE  LOIRE  187 

The  village  at  the  foot  of  the  wooded  hill  presents  an  aspect 
perhaps  unique  on  the  Loire,  the  precise  aspect  of  a  Rhine 
village — of  a  long  frontage  stretching  along  the  edge  of  the 
water. 

Amboise  is  a  pleasant,  pretty  town,  half  a  league  from 
Tours,  crowned  with  a  magnificent  edifice,  facing  those 
three  precious  arches  of  the  ancient  bridge,  which  will  dis- 
appear one  of  these  days  in  some  scheme  of  municipal  im- 
provement. 

The  ruin  of  the  Abbey  of  Marmontiers  is  both  great  and 
beautiful.  In  particular  there  is,  a  few  paces  from  the  road, 
a  structure  of  the  Fifteenth  Century — the  most  original  I 
have  seen :  by  its  dimensions  a  house,  by  its  machicoulis  a 
fortress,  by  its  belfry  an  hotel  de  ville,  by  its  pointed  door- 
way a  church.  This  structure  sums  up,  and,  as  it  were, 
renders  visible  to  the  eye,  the  species  of  hybrid  and  com- 
plex authority  which  in  feudal  times  appertained  to  abbeys 
in  general,  and,  in  particular,  to  the  Abbey  of  Mar- 
montiers. 

But  the  most  picturesque  and  imposing  feature  of  the 
Loire  is  an  immense  calcareous  wall,  mixed  with  sandstone, 
millstone,  and  potter's  clay,  which  skirts  and  banks  up  its 
right  shore,  and  stretches  itself  out  before  the  eye  from 
Blois  to  Tours,  with  inexpressible  variety  and  charm,  now 
wild  rock,  now  an  English  garden,  covered  with  trees  and 
flowers,  crowned  with  ripening  vines  and  smoking  chim- 
neys, perforated  like  a  sponge,  as  full  of  life  as  an  ant-hill. 

Then  there  are  deep  caves  which  long  ago  hid  the 
coiners  who  counterfeited  the  E.  of  the  Tours  mint,  and 
flooded  the  province  with  spurious  sous  of  Tours.  To-day 
the  rude  embrasures  of  these  dens  are  filled  with  pretty 
window-frames  coquettishly  fitted  into  the  rock,  and  from 


1 88  THE  LOIRE 

time  to  time  one  perceives  through  the  glass  the  fantastic 
head-dress  of  some  young  girl  occupied  in  packing  aniseed, 
angelica,  and  coriander  in  boxes.  The  confectioners  have 
replaced  the  coiners. 


THE  LOIRE 

HONORS  DE  BALZAC 

THE  banks  of  the  Loire,  from  Blois  to  Angers,  have 
been  high  in  favour  with  the  two  last  branches  of 
the  royal  race  that  occupied  the  throne  before  the  House 
of  Bourbon.  This  beautiful  basin  so  richly  deserves  the 
honours  paid  to  it  by  royalty  that  this  is  what  one  of  our 
most  elegant  writers  has  said  of  it : 

"  There  exists  in  France  a  province  that  has  never  been 
sufficiently  admired.  Perfumed  like  Italy,  flowered  like 
the  banks  of  the  Guadalquiver,  and  beautiful  in  addition 
with  its  individual  physiognomy,  and  entirely  French,  hav- 
ing always  been  French,  in  contrast  to  our  northern  prov- 
inces, corrupted  by  German  contact,  and  our  southern 
provinces  that  have  lived  in  concubinage  with  the  Moors, 
Spaniards  and  all  races  that  desired  to ; — this  province  pure, 
chaste,  brave  and  loyal  is  Touraine  !  Historic  France  is 
there  !  Auvergne  is  Auvergne ;  Languedoc  is  only  Lan- 
guedoc,  but  Touraine  is  France ;  and  for  us  the  most  na- 
tional river  of  all  is  the  Loire  that  waters  Touraine.  Hence, 
we  should  not  be  so  astonished  at  the  quantity  of  monu- 
ments found  in  the  Departments  that  have  taken  the  name 
and  derivatives  of  the  name  of  the  Loire.  At  every  step 
we  take  in  this  land  of  enchantment,  we  discover  a  picture 
the  frame  of  which  is  a  river  or  a  tranquil  oval  sheet  that 
reflects  in  its  liquid  depths  a  castle  with  its  turrets,  woods 
and  springing  waters.  It  was  only  natural  that  where 


IQO  THE  LOIRE 

royalty  abode  by  preference  and  established  its  court  for 
such  a  long  period  the  great  fortunes  and  distinctions  of 
race  and  merit  should  group  themselves  and  raise  palaces 
there  grand  as  themselves." 

Is  it  not  incomprehensible  that  Royalty  did  not  follow 
the  advice  given  by  Louis  XI.  indirectly  to  make  Tours 
the  capital  of  the  kingdom  ?  There,  without  much  expend- 
iture, the  Loire  could  have  been  made  accessible  to  trading 
vessels  and  to  ships  of  war  of  light  draught.  There,  the 
seat  of  government  would  have  been  secure  from  the  sur- 
prise of  an  invasion.  The  northern  strongholds  would  not 
then  have  demanded  so  much  money  for  their  fortifications, 
as  costly  to  themselves  as  the  sumptuousness  of  Versailles. 
If  Louis  XIV.  had  listened  to  the  advice  of  Vauban,  who 
wanted  to  build  a  residence  for  him  at  Mont  Louis,  between 
the  Loire  and  the  Cher,  perhaps  the  Revolution  of  1789 
would  not  have  occurred.  Still,  here  and  there,  those 
lovely  banks  bear  the  marks  of  the  royal  affection.  The 
castles  of  Chambord,  Blois,  Amboise,  Chenonceaux,  Chau- 
mont,  Plessis-lez-Tours,  all  those  which  the  mistresses  of 
our  kings,  and  the  financiers  and  great  lords  built  for  them- 
selves at  Veretz,  Azay-le-Rideau,  Ussi,  Villandri,  Valencay, 
Chanteloup,  Duretal  (some  of  which  have  disappeared  but 
the  majority  still  exist)  are  admirable  monuments  that  are 
redolent  with  the  marvels  of  that  epoch  that  is  so  ill  com- 
prehended by  the  literary  sect  of  Medievalists.  Among  all 
these  castles,  that  of  Blois  is  the  one  on  which  the  mag- 
nificence of  the  Orleans  and  the  Valois  has  set  its  most 
brilliant  seal ;  and  is  the  most  interesting  of  all  for  the  his- 
torian, the  archaeologist,  and  the  Reman  Catholic. 


THE  POTOMAC 

ESTHER  SINGLETON 

THE  Potomac  was  an  important  river  from  the  earliest 
period  of  the  country's  history.  Explorers  followed 
its  route  to  the  interior  of  the  country,  and  as  early  as  1784 
The  Potomac  Company  was  chartered  with  Washington  as 
its  president  for  the  purpose  of  connecting  the  Potomac 
Valley  with  the  west  by  means  of  a  canal  for  general  land 
improvement.  This  was  succeeded  by  the  Chesapeake  and 
Ohio  Canal  Company,  whose  canal  runs  parallel  with  and 
near  to  the  river  all  the  way  from  Georgetown  to  Cumber- 
land. 

The  first  attempt  to  explore  the  Chesapeake  Bay  and  its 
tributary  rivers  was  made  in  1608  by  Captain  John  Smith, 
who  speaks  of  the  Patawomeke  as  six  or  seven  miles  broad 
and  navigable  for  140  miles.  Another  Indian  name  was 
Cohonguroton  (River  of  Swans).  No  less  than  forty  tribes 
of  the  warlike  Algonquins  lived  upon  its  banks  and  held 
their  councils  at  the  point  of  land  now  occupied  by  the 
Arsenal. 

In  1634,  Henry  Fleet  with  some  of  Cal vert's  people  visited 
the  Falls  of  the  Potomac ;  and  early  in  the  Seventeenth 
Century  several  tracts  of  land  on  the  river  banks  were 
granted  to  settlers.  Among  these  was  one  Francis  Pope, 
gentleman,  who  in  1663  had  four  hundred  acres  laid  out 
which  he  called  Rome,  on  the  east  side  of  the  Anacostian 
River  and  to  the  mouth  of  the  Tiber,  for  so  this  little  arm 


192  THE  POTOMAC 

of  the  Potomac  was  called  more  than  a  century  before 
Washington  was  founded,  there  being  a  tradition  that  on 
its  banks  would  rise  a  capital  greater  than  Rome.  The 
Tiber  has  now  disappeared  beneath  the  streets  of  Wash- 
ington, but  it  once  flowed  below  the  hill  on  which  the 
Capitol  now  stands  between  forest-lined  banks  and  was 
noted  for  its  shad  and  herring. 

The  Potomac  is  formed  by  the  junction  of  two  rivers  on 
the  boundary  between  Maryland  and  West  Virginia.  The 
North  Branch  rises  in  the  Western  Alleghanies  and  the 
South  Branch  in  the  Central ;  and,  flowing  north-east,  they 
unite  about  fifteen  miles  south-east  of  Cumberland.  The 
Potomac  thus  forms  an  irregular  boundary  between  Mary- 
land and  West  Virginia  and  Maryland  and  Virginia  through- 
out its  entire  course  of  four  hundred  miles.  Its  chief  trib- 
utaries are  the  Shenandoah  from  Virginia  and  the  Monocacy 
from  Maryland.  At  Harper's  Ferry  the  Potomac  breaks 
through  the  Blue  Ridge  meeting  the  Shenandoah — "  Daugh- 
ter of  the  Stars  " — which  has  cut  its  way  through  the 
mist-wreathed  mountains,  laved  the  Luray  Caverns  and 
watered  a  lovely  valley.  These  rivers  winding  around 
Loudon  Heights,  Bolivar  Heights  and  Maryland  Heights 
are  picturesque  in  the  highest  degree,  and  the  scenery  is 
rendered  more  interesting  by  the  associations  with  John 
Brown's  raid  and  capture  and  other  thrilling  incidents  of 
the  Civil  War. 

Twelve  miles  below  is  Point  of  Rocks  and  below  this 
the  Monocacy  joins  the  main  stream. 

A  number  of  falls  mark  its  course  through  the  mountains  ; 
and  about  fifteen  miles  above  Washington  it  descends 
rapidly  until  it  reaches  Great  Falls,  at  which  point  it  breaks 
through  the  mountain  in  a  channel  narrowing  to  a  hundred 


w. 


THE  POTOMAC  193 

yards  in  width  and  bounded  on  the  Virginia  side  by  per- 
pendicular rocks  seventy  feet  high.  Cedars,  oaks,  willows 
and  other  forest  trees  contribute  beauty  to  this  wild  spot, 
where  cherries  and  strawberries  abound,  and  which  is  the 
haunt  of  the  rattlesnake  and  other  venomous  reptiles.  The 
water  falls  in  a  series  of  cascades.  Not  far  from  this  point 
Cabin-John  Bridge  is  reached,  a  bridge  formed  of  large 
blocks  of  granite  420  feet  long  and  twenty  feet  wide,  which 
springs  the  chasm  of  Cabin-John  Creek  at  a  height  of  101 
feet  in  a  single  arch  of  220  feet.  This  is  the  largest  stone 
arch  in  the  world,  the  second  being  the  Grosvenor  Bridge 
(with  a  span  of  200  feet),  over  the  Dee. 

At  a  distance  of  four  miles  below  Great  Falls,  the  stream 
widens  and  flows  quietly  for  ten  miles;  and  then  descends 
thirty-seven  feet  in  a  second  series  of  cascades  known  as 
Little  Falls,  about  three  miles  above  Georgetown.  The 
Potomac,  thus  released  from  the  hills  above  Georgetown, 
expands  into  a  broad  lake-like  river,  and  receives  the 
Anacostia  at  Washington,  where  it  meets  the  tide. 
About  twenty-five  miles  below  Washington,  it  becomes 
an  estuary  from  two  to  eight  miles  wide,  and  enters  the 
Chesapeake  Bay,  after  having  made  a  journey  of  four  hun- 
dred miles. 

The  chief  places  of  interest  on  the  banks  of  the  Potomac 
are,  of  course,  Washington,  Arlington  House,  Mount  Ver- 
non,  and  the  sleepy  old  town  of  Alexandria  founded  in  1748 
and  once  a  rival  of  Annapolis  and  Baltimore.  It  is  full  of 
associations  with  Washington,  whose  estate,  Mount  Vernon, 
is  but  a  few  miles  below.  Mount  Fernon,  in  Washington's 
time,  an  estate  of  two  thousand  acres,  belonged  originally 
to  his  half-brother,  Lawrence,  who  named  it  for  Admiral 
Vernon  under  whom  he  had  served. 


194  THE  POTOMAC 

Arlington  Housey  the  residence  of  the  adopted  son  of 
General  Washington,  George  Washington  Parke  Custis, 
came  into  possession  of  Gen.  Robert  E.  Lee  through  his 
wife  who  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Custis.  The  house, 
built  from  drawings  of  the  temple  at  Paestum,  near  Naples, 
stands  on  a  bluff  two  hundred  feet  above  the  river  about 
four  miles  from  Washington.  The  building  with  its  two 
wings  has  a  frontage  of  140  feet  and  the  portico  sixty  feet 
long  is  surmounted  by  a  pediment  resting  on  eight  Doric 
columns  twenty-six  feet  high  and  five  feet  in  diameter.  On 
the  south  were  the  gardens  and  greenhouses,  and  in  the 
rear  the  kitchens,  slave  quarters  and  stables.  In  1863 
Arlington  House  and  the  estate  of  1,000  acres  was  sold  under 
the  Confiscation  Act  and  taken  possession  of  by  the 
National  Government;  and  in  1867  the  grounds  were  ap- 
propriated for  a  National  Cemetery. 

The  Potomac  was  the  scene  of  skirmishes  in  1814,  when 
Alexandria  surrendered  to  the  British ;  and  in  this  connec- 
tion it  is  interesting  to  learn  what  Admiral  Napier,  who  com- 
manded the  fleet,  has  to  say  regarding  the  ascent  of  the  river : 

"  The  river  Potomac  is  navigable  for  frigates  as  high  up 
as  Washington,  but  the  navigation  is  extremely  intricate 
and  nature  has  done  much  for  the  protection  of  the  country 
by  placing  one-third  of  the  way  up,  very  extensive  and 
intricate  shoals,  called  the  4  Kettle  Bottoms.'  They  are 
composed  of  oyster  banks  of  various  dimensions,  some  not 
larger  than  a  boat,  with  passages  between  them. 

41  The  best  channel  is  on  the  Virginia  shore ;  but  the 
charts  gave  us  mostly  very  bad  directions  and  no  pilots 
could  be  procured.  A  frigate  had  attempted  some  time  be- 
fore to  effect  a  passage,  and,  after  being  frequently  aground, 
gave  it  up  as  impossible.  The  American  frigates  them- 


THE  POTOMAC  195 

selves  never  attempted  it  with  their  guns  in,  and  were  sev- 
eral weeks  in  the  passage  from  the  naval  yard  at  Washing- 
ton to  the  mouth  of  the  Potomac. 

"  When  the  tide  was  favourable  and  the  wind  light,  we 
warped  by  hand ;  with  the  ebb  and  the  wind  strong,  the 
hawsers  were  brought  to  the  capstan.  This  operation  be- 
gan at  daylight  and  was  carried  on  without  interruption  till 
dark  and  lasted  five  days,  during  which  the  squadron  warped 
upwards  of  fifty  miles,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  fifth  day 
anchored  off  Maryland  Point.  The  same  day  the  public 
buildings  of  Washington  were  burnt.  The  reflection  of  the 
fire  on  the  heavens  was  plainly  seen  from  the  ships,  much 
to  our  mortification  and  disappointment,  as  we  concluded 
that  that  act  was  committed  at  the  moment  of  evacuating 
the  town.  .  .  . 

"  The  following  morning,  to  our  great  joy,  the  wind  be- 
came fair,  and  we  made  all  sail  up  the  river,  which  now  as- 
sumed a  more  pleasing  aspect.  At  five  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon Mount  Vernon — the  retreat  of  the  illustrious  Wash- 
ington— opened  to  our  view  and  showed  us,  for  the  first 
time  since  we  entered  the  Potomac,  a  gentleman's  residence. 
Higher  up  the  river,  on  the  opposite  side,  Fort  Washington 
appeared  to  our  anxious  eyes ;  and,  to  our  great  satisfaction, 
it  was  considered  assailable. 

"A  little  before  sunset  the  squadron  anchored  just  out  of 
gun-shot;  the  bomb  vessels  at  once  took  up  their  positions 
to  cover  the  frigates  in  the  projected  attack  at  daylight 
next  morning  and  began  throwing  shells.  The  garrison,  to 
our  great  surprise,  retreated  from  the  Fort ;  and,  a  short 
time  after,  Fort  Washington  was  blown  up — which  left  the 
capital  of  America,  and  the  populous  town  of  Alexandria, 
open  to  the  squadron,  without  the  loss  of  a  man. 


196  THE  POTOMAC 

"  A  deputation  from  the  town  arrived  to  treat ;  but 
Captain  Gordon  declined  entering  into  any  arrangement 
till  the  squadron  arrived  before  Alexandria.  The  channel 
was  buoyed,  and  next  morning  the  ayth,  we  anchored 
abreast  of  the  town  and  dictated  terms. 

"Alexandria  is  a  large  well-built  town  and  a  place  of  great 
trade.  It  is  eight  miles  below  Washington,  where  few 
merchant  ships  go,  and  is,  in  fact,  the  mercantile  capital,  and, 
before  the  war,  was  a  most  flourishing  town,  but  at  the  time 
of  its  capture  had  been  going  rapidly  to  decay.  Agricultural 
produce  was  of  little  value ;  the  storehouses  were  full  of  it. 
We  learnt  that  the  army  after  destroying  Barney's  flotilla, 
had  made  a  forced  march  on  Washington,  beat  the  Ameri- 
cans at  Bladensburg,  destroyed  the  public  buildings  and 
navy  yard,  and  retreated  to  their  ships.  Had  our  little 
squadron  been  favoured  by  wind,  the  retreat  would  have 
been  made  along  the  right  bank  of  the  Potomac,  under  our 
protection,  and  the  whole  country  in  the  course  of  that 
river  would  have  been  laid  under  contribution." 


THE  EUPHRATES 

GEORGE  RAWLINSON 

EUPHRATES  is  probably  a  word  of  Arian  origin.     It 
is  not  improbable  that  in  common  parlance  the  name 
was  soon  shortened  to  its  modern  form  of  Prat,  which  is 
almost  exactly  what  the  Hebrew  literation  expresses. 

The  Euphrates  is  the  largest,  the  longest,  and  by  far  the 
most  important  of  the  rivers  of  Western  Asia.  It  rises 
from  two  chief  sources  in  the  Armenian  Mountains,  one  of 
them  at  Domli,  twenty-five  miles  north-east  of  Ezeroum, 
and  little  more  than  a  degree  from  the  Black  Sea ;  the  other 
on  the  northern  slope  of  the  .mountain  range  called  Ala- 
Tagh,  near  the  village  of  Diyadin,  and  not  far  from  Mount 
Ararat.  Both  branches  flow  at  first  towards  the  west  or 
south-west,  passing  through  the  wildest  mountain-districts  of 
Armenia;  they  meet  at  Kebban-Maden,  nearly  in  longitude 
39°  east  from  Greenwich,  having  run  respectively  400  and 
270  miles.  Here  the  stream  formed  by  their  combined 
waters  is  120  yards  wide,  rapid  and  very  deep.  The  last 
part  of  its  course,  from  Hit  downwards,  is  through  a  low, 
flat,  and  alluvial  plain,  over  which  it  has  a  tendency  to 
spread  and  stagnate ;  above  Hit,  and  from  thence  to  Sa- 
mosata,  the  country  along  its  banks  is  for  the  most  part 
open  but  hilly ;  north  of  Samosata,  the  stream  runs  in  a 
narrow  valley  among  high  mountains,  and  is  interrupted  by 
numerous  rapids.  The  entire  course  is  calculated  at  1,780 
miles,  nearly  650  more  than  that  of  the  Tigris,  and  only 


198  THE  EUPHRATES 

200  short  of  that  of  the  Indus ;  and  of  this  distance  more 
than  two-thirds  (1,200  miles)  is  navigable  for  boats,  and 
even,  as  the  expedition  of  Col.  Chesney  proved,  for  small 
steamers.  The  width  of  the  river  is  greatest  at  the  dis- 
tance of  700  or  800  miles  from  its  mouth.  The  river  has 
also  in  this  part  of  its  course  the  tendency  already  noted,  to 
run  off  and  waste  itself  in  vast  marshes,  which  every  year 
more  and  more  cover  the  alluvial  tract  west  and  south  of 
the  stream.  From  this  cause  its  lower  course  is  continually 
varying,  and  it  is  doubted  whether  at  present,  except  in  the 
season  of  the  inundation,  any  portion  of  the  Euphrates  water 
is  poured  into  the  Shat-el-Arab. 

The  annual  inundation  of  the  Euphrates  is  caused  by  the 
melting  of  the  snows  in  the  Armenian  highlands.  It  oc- 
curs in  the  month  of  May.  The  rise  of  the  Tigris  is 
earlier,  since  it  drains  the  southern  flank  of  the  great  Ar- 
menian chain.  The  Tigris  scarcely  overflows,  but  the 
Euphrates  inundates  large  tracts  on  both  sides  of  its  course 
from  Hit  downwards. 

The  Euphrates  has  at  all  times  been  of  some  importance 
as  furnishing  a  line  of  traffic  between  the  east  and  the  west. 
Herodotus  speaks  of  persons,  probably  merchants,  using  it 
regularly  on  their  passage  from  the  Mediterranean  to  Babylon. 
Alexander  appears  to  have  brought  to  Babylon  by  the  Eu- 
phrates route  vessels  of  some  considerable  size,  which  he 
had  had  made  in  Cyprus  and  Phosnicia.  They  were  so 
constructed  that  they  could  be  taken  to  pieces,  and  were  thus 
carried  piecemeal  to  Thapsacus,  where  they  were  put  to- 
gether and  launched.  The  disadvantage  of  the  route  was 
the  difficulty  of  conveying  return  cargoes  against  the  cur- 
rent. According  to  Herodotus,  the  boats  which  descended 
the  river  were  broken  to  pieces  and  sold  at  Babylon,  and 


THE  EUPHRATES  19$ 

the  owners  returned  on  foot  to  Armenia,  taking  with  them 
only  the  skins.  The  spices  and  other  products  of  Arabia 
formed  their  principal  merchandise.  On  the  whole  there 
are  sufficient  grounds  for  believing  that  throughout  the  Baby- 
lonian and  Persian  periods  this  route  was  made  use  of  by 
the  merchants  of  various  nations,  and  that  by  it  the  east  and 
west  continually  interchanged  their  most  important  prod- 
ucts. 

The  Euphrates  is  first  mentioned  in  Scripture  as  one  of 
the  four  rivers  of  Eden.  We  next  hear  of  it  in  the  cove- 
nant made  with  Abraham  where  the  whole  country  from 
"  the  great  river  Euphrates "  to  the  river  of  Egypt  is 
promised  to  the  chosen  race.  In  Deuteronomy  and  Joshua 
we  find  this  promise  was  borne  in  mind  at  the  time  of  the 
settlement  in  Canaan ;  and  from  an  important  passage  in 
the  first  Book  of  Chronicles  it  appears  that  the  tribe  of 
Reuben  did  actually  extend  itself  to  the  Euphrates  in  the 
times  anterior  to  Saul.  Here  they  came  in  contact  with 
the  Hagarites,  who  appear  upon  the  middle  Euphrates  in 
the  Assyrian  inscription  of  the  later  empire.  It  is  David, 
however,  who  seems  for  the  first  time  to  have  entered  on 
the  full  enjoyment  of  the  promise,  by  the  victories  which 
he  gained  over  Hadadezer,  king  of  Zobah,  and  his  allies, 
the  Syrians  of  Damascus.  The  object  of  his  expedition 
was  "  to  recover  his  border,"  and  "  to  establish  his  do- 
minion by  the  river  Euphrates"  ;  and  in  this  object  he  ap- 
pears to  have  been  altogether  successful ;  in  so  much  that 
Solomon,  his  son,  who  was  not  a  man  of  war,  but  only  in- 
herited his  father's  dominions,  is  said  to  have"  reigned  over 
all  kingdoms  from  the  river  (the  Euphrates)  unto  the  land 
of  the  Philistines  and  unto  the  border  of  Egypt.  Thus 
during  the  reigns  of  David  and  Solomon  the  dominion  of 


26d  THE  EUPHRATES 

Israel  actually  attained  to  the  full  extent  both  ways  of  the 
original  promise,  the  Euphrates  forming  the  boundary  of 
their  empire  to  the  north-east,  and  the  river  of  Egypt  to 
the  south-west.  The  "  Great  River "  had  meanwhile 
served  for  some  time  as  a  boundary  between  Assyria  and 
the  country  of  the  Hittites,  but  had  repeatedly  been  crossed 
by  the  armies  of  the  Ninevite  kings,  who  gradually  estab- 
lished their  sway  over  the  countries  upon  its  right  bank. 
The  crossing  of  the  river  was  always  difficult ;  and  at  the 
point  where  certain  natural  facilities  fixed  the  ordinary  pass- 
age, the  strong  fort  of  Carchemish  had  been  built,  probably 
in  very  early  times,  to  command  the  position.  Hence, 
when  Necho  determined  to  attempt  the  permanent  con- 
quest of  Syria,  his  march  was  directed  upon  "  Carchemish 
by  Euphrates,"  which  he  captured  and  held,  thus  extending 
the  dominion  of  Egypt  to  the  Euphrates,  and  renewing  the 
old  glories  of  the  Rameside  kings. 

These  are  the  chief  events  which  Scripture  distinctly  con- 
nects with  the  "  Great  River."  It  is  probably  included 
among  the  "  rivers  of  Babylon,"  by  the  side  of  which  the 
Jewish  captives  "  remembered  Zion,"  and  wept,  and  no 
doubt  is  glanced  at  in  the  threats  of  Jeremiah  against  the 
Chaldean  "  waters  "  and  "  springs,"  upon  which  there  is  to 
be  a  "  drought,"  that  shall  "  dry  them  up."  The  fulfil- 
ment of  these  prophecies  has  been  noticed  under  the  head 
of  Chaldaea.  The  river  still  brings  down  as  much  water 
as  of  old,  but  the  precious  element  is  wasted  by  neglect  of 
man ;  the  various  water-courses  along  which  it  was  in  for- 
mer times  conveyed,  are  dry ;  the  main  channel  has 
shrunk  ;  and  the  water  stagnates  in  unwholesome  marshes. 


THE  WYE 

A.  R.  QUINTON 

AMONG  the  many  beautiful  streams  of  Britain  there 
is  perhaps  not  one  of  which  has  so  many  and  so 
varied  charms  as  the  River  Wye.  Issuing  from  the  south- 
ern slopes  of  the  great  Welsh  mountain,  Plinlimmon,  it  be- 
gins its  life  as  a  mountain  torrent,  but  gradually  sobers 
down  into  a  placid  stream,  flowing  in  a  sinuous  course  of 
one  hundred  and  thirty  odd  miles,  and  receiving  many  trib- 
utary streamlets  before  it  mingles  its  waters  with  those  of 
its  big  sister,  the  Severn,  a  few  miles  below  Chepstow. 
Thickly  dotted  along  its  banks  are  picturesque  ruined  cas- 
tles, abbeys,  and  manor-houses — each  with  its  own  story  to 
tell  of  bygone  days ;  quaint  old  towns,  and  at  least  one 
stately  cathedral,  each  bearing  names  which  often  recur  in 
the  pages  of  history,  and  still  retaining  signs  of  the  age 
when  kings,  barons,  and  Commoners,  priests  and  laymen, 
struggled  for  supremacy. 

Although  there  is  much  that  is  interesting  and  pleasing 
in  the  earlier  part  of  its  course,  it  is  at  Ross  that  the  roman- 
tic scenery  of  the  Wye  may  be  said  to  commence.  Above 
that  town  the  river  flows  for  many  miles  through  a  fairly 
open  valley,  bordered  indeed  with  wooded  hills,  but  with  a 
broad  expanse  of  meadow  land  between  their  feet  and  its 
margin.  But  on  approaching  Ross  the  slopes  draw  nearer 
to  the  brink  of  the  stream,  and  for  twenty  miles  or  more 
the  Wye  flows  through  an  almost  continuous  glen,  carved 
deeply  out  of  a  lofty  and  undulating  table-land. 


202  THE  WYE 

The  ancient  town  of  Ross,  our  starting  place,  is  chiefly 
built  upon  the  slope  of  a  hill  terminating  on  a  plateau,  de- 
scending steeply  to  the  river.  Upon  this  plateau  stands  the 
church,  with  its  adjoining  garden,  the  Prospect,  which  com- 
mands a  lovely  view  over  the  valley  of  the  Wye  ;  whence 
the  graceful  spire  of  the  church  forms  a  landmark  for  all 
the  country  round. 

The  district  traversed  by  the  Wye  in  the  first  stage  of  its 
seaward  journey,  from  Ross  to  Monmouth,  is  an  elevated 
upland,  a  region  of  rolling  hills  shelving  down  towards 
winding  valleys,  whose  declivities  become  abrupt  towards 
the  margin  of  the  main  river.  Near  to  this  the  hills  are 
often  scarped  into  cliffs  and  carved  into  ridges,  but  further 
back  we  have  slopes  and  undulations,  cornfields  and  scattered 
woodlands,  in  marked  contrast  with  the  crags  and  forest- 
clad  glades  near  the  edge  of  the  swift  and  strong  stream. 
The  valley  narrows  after  leaving  Ross,  but  the  scenery  im- 
proves as  we  come  in  view  of  Goodrich  Castle,  crowning 
a  wooded  steep  above  the  river,  and  Goodrich  Court,  also 
seated  on  an  eminence.  The  latter  is  a  modern  imitation 
of  a  mediaeval  dwelling,  and  formerly  contained  the  remark- 
ably fine  collection  of  ancient  armour  which  has  since  found 
a  home  in  the  South  Kensington  Museum,  and  is  known 
as  the  Meyrick  Collection.  The  Castle,  which  is  some 
distance  beyond  the  Court,  was  in  its  day  a  fortress  of 
formidable  strength.  There  is  little  doubt  that  the  keep 
was  built  about  the  period  1135-1154,  in  the  time  of  King 
Stephen. 

In  the  time  of  the  civil  wars  it  was  held  for  the  King 
Charles  I.  by  Sir  Henry  Lingen,  but  was  taken  from  him  by 
the  Parliamentarians  in  1646. 

At  Goodrich  the  river  commences  one  of  its  most  re- 


THE  WYE  203 

markable  bends.  From  Goodrich  Ferry  to  Huntsholme 
Ferry  is  little  more  than  a  mile  overland,  but  by  the  river  it 
is  eight  miles.  The  Wye  sweeps  round  in  an  easterly  di- 
rection after  Kern  Bridge  is  passed,  then  turns  abruptly  and 
flows  for  a  mile  in  an  opposite  course,  enclosing  in  the  loop 
thus  formed  the  house  and  grounds  of  Courtfield,  where,  in 
a  more  ancient  mansion,  "  Wild  Prince  Hal "  is  reported  to 
have  passed  the  days  of  early  childhood,  under  the  care  of 
the  Countess  of  Salisbury.  The  pretty  village  of  Welsh 
Bicknor  is  also  passed,  and  then  we  presently  come  in  view 
of  the  lofty  Coldwell  Rocks,  where  the  river,  which  for  a 
time  has  pursued  a  southerly  direction,  now  doubles  back 
almost  upon  its  former  course,  and  makes  the  most  remark- 
able curve  in  the  whole  of  its  windings  from  Plinlimmon  to 
the  sea.  It  is  far-famed  Symonds'  Yat,  a  limestone  plateau 
some  600  feet  above  the  river,  which  here  describes  a  huge 
elongated  loop,  so  that  after  a  course  of  between  four  and 
five  miles  it  returns  again  to  within  less  than  half  a  mile  of 
its  former  channel. 

More  extensive  prospects  may,  doubtless,  be  obtained 
from  other  view  points,  but  for  a  grand  combination  of 
rocks  and  woodlands,  this  spot  may  well  take  the  palm. 
After  leaving  the  Yat,  the  Wye  bends  round  the  stone  hills 
on  its  right  bank.  On  both  are  remarkable  encampments, 
whilst  fossil  remains  of  hyena,  elephant,  stag,  and  other 
animals  have  been  found  in  a  cave  known  as  King  Arthur's 
Cave,  on  the  former  hill. 

Very  lovely  is  the  course  of  the  river  as  it  flows  onward 
through  steep  and  densely  wooded  slopes  and  presently 
brings  us  in  view  of  a  detached  cluster  of  rocks  called  the 
"  Seven  Sisters."  This  part  of  the  Wye  is  reported  to 
have  a  greater  depth  than  any  other  length  in  its  course. 


204  THE  WYE 

At  the  end  of  the  reach  is  the  beautiful  level  height  called 
King  Arthur's  Plain,  which  in  the  distance  assumes  the  ap- 
pearance of  towers  belonging  to  an  ancient  castle.  The 
high  road  turns  away  from  the  river  at  the  apex  of  Sy- 
monds'  Yat,  but  a  foot-path  follows  the  banks  on  either  side 
as  far  as  Monmouth.  Shortly  before  reaching  that  town 
the  wilder  and  more  romantic  part  of  the  Wye  ends  and  the 
river  pursues  a  straighter  and  less  ruffled  course. 

The  situation  of  the  town  of  Monmouth  is  remarkably 
picturesque.  Beautiful  hills  surround  it  on  all  sides,  but  the 
valley  has  expanded  to  allow  the  Monnow  and  the  Trothy 
to  form  a  junction  with  the  Wye.  A  curious  old  bridge 
spans  the  Monnow,  bearing  on  its  first  pier  an  ancient  gate- 
house, one  of  the  few  survivors  of  a  defensive  work  once 
common  in  England,  which,  though  somewhat  altered 
by  being  pierced  with  postern  arches  for  foot-passengers, 
still  retains  the  place  for  its  portcullis  and  much  of  its  an- 
cient aspect.  Formerly  the  town  was  surrounded  by  a  wall 
and  moat,  and  was  entered  by  four  gates,  of  which  the  Mon- 
now Gate  alone  remains. 

A  short  distance  below  Monmouth  the  Wye  again  enters 
a  narrow  glen,  hardly  less  beautiful  if  less  romantic,  than 
the  gorge  which  it  has  traversed  on  its  course  from  Ross  to 
Monmouth.  The  hills  once  more  close  in  upon  the  river, 
leaving  but  seldom  even  a  strip  of  level  meadow  between  its 
margin  and  their  slopes.  The  steeply  wooded  banks  are  so 
wild  and  so  continuous  that  at  times  we  seem  to  be  passing 
through  an  undisturbed  remnant  of  primeval  forest.  At  Red 
Brook,  however,  there  are  signs  of  human  activity.  A 
pretty  glen  here  descends  from  among  the  hills  to  the  left 
bank  of  the  Wye.  By  the  riverside  are  little  quays  with 
barges  alongside,  and,  alas,  it  must  also  be  added,  tall  chim- 


THE  WYE  205 

neys  pouring  forth  smoke  to  mar  the  beauty  of  a  lovely 
spot. 

At  Bigswier  the  river  is  spanned  by  an  iron  bridge,  thrown 
lightly  from  bank  to  bank,  and  is  of  sufficiently  pleasing  de- 
sign to  harmonize  with  the  surroundings.  From  this  point 
the  Wye  is  affected  by  the  tide,  but  not  to  any  appreciable 
extent,  until  a  few  miles  below,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Tintern.  On  a  hill  overlooking  Bigswier  stand  the  church 
and  castle  of  St.  Briavels.  The  castle  was  erected  soon 
after  the  Norman  conquest  as  one  of  the  border  defenses ; 
it  stands  on  the  edge  of  the  ancient  Forest  of  Dean,  and 
saw  much  rough  work  in  its  early  days.  The  old  keep  is 
in  ruins,  but  the  other  portions  are  used  as  a  residence. 

The  next  village  encountered,  on  our  way  down  the 
stream,  is  Llandago,  which  nestles  among  gardens  and 
orchards,  and  rises  tier  above  tier  on  the  thickly  wooded  hill 
which  rises  steeply  from  the  road  beside  the  river.  Near 
by  is  Offa's  Chair — a  point  in  the  great  earthwork  known 
as  Offa's  Dyke,  which  once  extended  from  Tidenham, 
across  Herefordshire  and  Radnorshire,  to  the  Flintshire 
hills  beyond  Mold,  and  perhaps  to  the  coast  of  North 
Wales.  As  the  valley  again  slightly  expands,  shelving 
bands  of  sward,  dotted  with  houses,  announce  that  we  are 
approaching  the  precincts  of  the  far-famed  Tintern  Abbey. 
First  we  must  pass  the  long  and  scattered  village  of  Tintern 
Parva,  whose  pretty  white  cottages  and  pleasant  gardens  ex- 
tend for  a  mile  along  the  river's  bank,  which  here  makes 
another  of  its  sharp  bends.  Cunningly  indeed  did  the 
monks  of  old  choose  their  dwelling  places.  There  is  no 
spot  for  many  a  mile  which  so  completely  fulfils  the  re- 
quirements of  quiet  and  seclusion  with  certain  mundane 
comforts,  as  that  which  they  have  selected.  As  one  gazes 


206  THE  WYE 

at  this  noble  relic,  and  the  winding  Wye  stealing  past  it 
through  the  hills,  one  must  accord  the  first  place  among  the 
classic  ruins  of  this  island,  in  so  far  as  regards  the  beauty 
of  its  situation.  Forests  were  near  at  hand  to  supply  them 
with  fuel  without  stint,  and  game  for  their  table  on  days  of 
feasting.  The  tidal  river  would  bring  the  barks  of  mer- 
chandise to  their  very  door,  and  its  leaping  salmon  would 
alleviate  the  severity  of  their  fast  days.  Chepstow,  with  its 
castle,  guarded  them  from  marauders  by  the  sea,  and  they 
were  far  enough  within  the  line  of  border  fortresses  to  fear 
no  ill  from  incursions  from  the  mountains  of  Wales. 

The  plan  of  the  foundation  of  the  Abbey  is  cruciform, 
and  what  remains  of  the  grey  skeleton  of  the  edifice  affords 
a  fine  example  of  early  Twelfth-Century  work.  It  was 
founded  in  the  year  1131  by  one  Walter  de  Clare  "  for  the 
good  of  his  soul,  and  the  soul  of  his  kinsmen,"  and  was  con- 
fined to  the  use  of  monks  of  the  Cistercian  order.  Two 
inscribed  tombs  in  the  cloisters  give  the  names  of  two  of  the 
abbots,  but,  apart  from  such  fragmentary  scraps  of  informa- 
tion, the  history  of  Tintern  may  be  said  to  have  perished 
with  the  Abbey.  The  scene  on  entering  the  interior,  is 
most  impressive.  Vaulted  roof  and  central  tower  are  gone, 
but  the  arches  which  supported  the  latter  are  intact.  The 
glass,  of  course,  has  long  since  perished  with  the  windows, 
even  the  mullions  and  tracery  are  gone ;  ivy,  ferns,  and 
herbage,  form  a  coping  for  the  wall ;  the  greensward  has 
replaced  the  pavement  of  stone  or  tiles  ;  but  still  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  imagine  a  more  imposing  and  lovely  scene  than 
these  ruins. 

Between  Tintern  and  Chepstow  the  scenery  of  the  Wye 
assumes  an  entirely  fresh  character.  As  we  approach  the 
Wynd  cliff,  the  grassy  bed  of  the  river  opens  out  into  a 


THE  WYE  207 

sort  of  amphitheatre,  and  we  can  trace  the  huge  horseshoe 
curve  swept  out  upon  its  floors  by  the  stream,  between  the 
base  of  the  Wynd  cliff  which  it  washes,  and  the  mural  es- 
carpment of  Bannagor  and  Tidenham  Crags,  which  form 
the  opposite  boundary  of  this  great  river-trench.  It  is  a 
steep  climb  to  the  top  of  the  Wynd  clifF,  but  the  glorious 
prospect  obtained  from  the  summit  well  repays  the  effort. 
Below  is  the  beautiful  horseshoe  fold  of  the  Wye,  bounded 
by  richly-wooded  slopes  that  sweep  from  the  right  with  a 
curve  in  the  form  of  a  sickle.  Where  the  curve  ends  there 
stands  an  imposing  wall  of  rock  with  a  reddish  base,  its 
brow  of  dazzling  white  lined  with  green  woodland,  while 
far  away  towards  the  coast  the  point  where  the  river  enters 
the  Severn  estuary,  which  is  here  broadening  out  on  its 
way  towards  the  distant  sea,  is  faintly  visible.  The  beauti- 
ful grounds  of  Piercefield  lie  between  the  Wynd  cliff  and 
Chepstow.  Art  has  here  assisted  Nature,  in  this  domain,  by 
carrying  paths  through  a  belt  of  woodland,  with  outlooks 
cunningly  contrived  to  command  the  best  views.  These 
grounds  are  thrown  open  to  the  public  on  certain  days. 

The  town  of  Chepstow  occupies  the  right  bank  of  the 
Wye,  and  is  built  upon  a  slope,  which  descends  in  places 
rather  abruptly  from  the  general  level  of  the  surrounding 
country  to  the  river's  brink.  Formerly  it  was  enclosed  by 
walls,  like  Monmouth,  considerable  portions  of  which  are 
here  and  there  preserved,  especially  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  the  castle.  One  of  the  gates  still  remains  in  High 
Street.  It  is  called  the  Town  Gate,  and  was  for  a  long  time 
used  as  a  prison.  Chepstow  Castle  is  approached  by  a  gen- 
tle acclivity  clothed  with  greensward. 


THE  INDIAN  RIVER 

L.  C.  BRYAN 

THIS  river,  or  sound,  spans  a  region  of  a  hundred  and 
forty  miles  from  north  to  south,  is  salt,  and  yet  al- 
most without  tide,  neither  rising  nor  falling  more  than  a  few 
inches  by  the  winds ;  lies  upon  the  very  shore  of  the  Atlan- 
tic, and  from  one  to  seven  miles  wide — a  most  placid,  safe 
and  beautiful  inland  sea  in  the  very  teeth  of  a  wild  tem- 
pestuous ocean. 

Unlike  the  St.  John's  or  any  other  possible  river,  having 
no  considerable  rise  or  fall,  its  bordering  lands  are  not  over- 
flowed, and  unlike  other  seacoast  waterways,  it  is  not  cum- 
bered with  interminable  salt  marshes.  Its  waters  beat  upon 
a  bold,  often  abrupt  shore,  diversified  into  high  and  low 
lands  of  every  grade  and  covered  with  the  luxuriant  vegeta- 
tion common  to  warm  climates. 

Wonderfully  beautiful  is  Indian  River.  There  is  no 
other  such  sheet  of  water  in  the  world.  Nature,  with  lavish 
hand,  spread  its  waters  and  adorned  its  shores.  The  design 
of  the  Great  Master  Artist  is  seen  in  the  narrow  strip  of 
land  as  a  levee  separating  the  river  from  the  Atlantic,  and 
in  the  forest  on  the  levee  as  a  great  wind-break  to  curb 
the  fierce  winds  of  the  ocean.  Properly  speaking,  it  is  not 
a  river,  but  a  sound,  or  arm  of  the  sea.  Its  centre  is  on  an 
air  line  north  and  south  140  miles  long,  while  its  banks 
curve  in  and  out  in  beautiful  bays  and  grottoes.  A  few 
small  creeks  empty  into  it  from  the  west,  while  the  water 


COPYRIGHT,  1901,  BY  DETROIT  PHOTOGRAPHIC  COMPANY 
THE    INDIAN 


THE  INDIAN  RIVER  2Og 

empties  into  it  from  the  Atlantic  through  Indian  River  In- 
let and  Jupiter  Inlet. 

It  is  a  sea  without  its  dangers,  a  river  without  a  current, 
seldom  calm,  but  always  in  motion  from  the  winds.  From 
this  constant  motion  its  water  is  kept  pure.  The  winds  of 
winter,  coming  from  the  north-west,  are  softened  and 
warmed  by  the  waters  of  the  upper  St.  John's  River,  and 
the  pine  forests  on  the  west  of  the  hammocks  of  this  river, 
and  the  winds  of  summer  coming  from  the  east,  are  tempered 
and  cooled  by  the  Gulf  Stream,  making  the  climate  most 
delightful  in  winter  and  summer,  and,  perhaps,  most  to  be 
desired  of  any  in  America. 

Of  the  Indian  River  we  find  the  following  from  the  able 
pen  of  ex-Governor  Gleason  : 

"  Indian  River,  as  it  is  called,  is  a  sound,  and  lies  parallel 
to  the  Atlantic,  separated  from  it  by  a  narrow  strip  of  land 
varying  from  a  few  rods  to  three  miles  in  width ;  it  is  a 
sheet  of  pure  tide  water,  salt,  clear  and  transparent.  It  has 
two  inlets  from  the  ocean — Indian  River  Inlet,  about  100 
miles  from  its  north  head,  and  Jupiter  Inlet  at  its  extreme 
southern  end.  From  its  north  head  to  within  twenty-five 
miles  of  Jupiter  Inlet,  it  is  from  one  to  six  miles  wide  ; 
from  Jupiter  Inlet  to  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lucie  River,  a 
distance  of  about  twenty-five  miles,  it  is  from  one-fourth  of 
a  mile  to  a  mile  in  width,  and  is  known  as  Jupiter  Narrows. 
It  is  affected  very  little  by  the  tide  and  the  current  moves 
by  the  wind.  Being  in  the  region  of  the  trade  winds,  with 
almost  a  constant  breeze  from  the  east  during  the  daytime, 
it  affords  peculiar  facilities  for  sailing  up  and  down  the  river, 
and  the  people  take  advantage  of  it.  Every  house  is  either 
on  the  river  bank  or  a  short  distance  up  some  navigable 
stream  flowing  into  it,  and  has  a  boat  landing.  It  is  the 


210  THE  INDIAN  RIVER 

Venice  of  America,  and  one  can  seldom  look  out  upon  the 
water  without  seeing  boats  sailing  both  ways.  The  river  is 
well  supplied  with  the  finest  oysters,  sea-turtles,  and  a  great 
variety  of  fish,  among  which  are  mullet,  cavalli,  snapper, 
blue  fish,  sheepshead  and  sea-trout.  The  manatee  is 
caught  at  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Lucie  and  Jupiter  Inlet. 
Some  of  them  weigh  from  1,500  to  2,000  pounds  and  are 
very  grand  eating.  They  are  found  nowhere  else  in  the 
United  States,  their  principal  habitat  being  near  the  mouths 
of  the  streams  flowing  into  the  Caribbean  Sea,  where  they 
feed  upon  a  peculiar  grass  called  manatee,  which  grows  at 
the  bottom  of  most  tide-water  streams  in  the  tropics." 

Merritt's  Island,  which  is  about  forty  miles  long  and  con- 
tains about  thirty  thousand  acres  is  situated  in  the  northern 
part  of  the  river.  The  water  on  its  east  side  is  from  one- 
fourth  of  a  mile  to  six  miles  wide,  and  is  known  as  Banana 
River.  The  shores  of  Indian  River,  both  on  the  west  side 
of  Merritt's  Island  and  on  the  main  land,  are  free  from 
swamps  and  marshes,  and  rise  at  an  angle  of  from  twenty 
to  twenty-five  degrees  to  an  elevation  of  from  twenty-five 
to  fifty  feet.  In  many  places  the  banks  are  high  bluffs 
The  country  on  Merritt's  Island,  and  the  west  shore  has 
the  appearance  of  an  endless  park,  the  timber  being  princi- 
pally scattered  pines,  with  an  undergrowth  of  palmettos 
and  grass,  interspersed  with  an  occasional  forest  of  palm, 
live  oak  and  other  hard  wood  timbers. 

The  orange  belt  is  from  one  to  three  miles  in  width,  and 
is  principally  on  the  west  side  near  the  river.  West  of  the 
orange  belt  are  the  St.  John's  prairies,  which  are  unfit  for 
orange  culture,  but  afford  fine  pasturage,  and  are  good  for 
vegetables  and  the  culture  of  sugar-cane  and  hay. 

The  river  south  of  Indian  River  Inlet,  on  the  eastern 


THE  INDIAN  RIVER  211 

shore,  is  skirted  with  a  narrow  belt  of  mangrove  timber  of 
only  a  few  rods  in  width,  which  is  very  dense  and  almost 
impenetrable.  It  is  a  deep  green  the  entire  year,  and  pre- 
sents a  beautiful  appearance.  The  strip  of  land  adjacent  to 
the  ocean  between  Jupiter  Inlet  and  the  mouth  of  St.  Lucie 
River,  is  known  as  Jupiter  Island,  and  is  about  half  a  mile 
wide  and  twenty  miles  long.  It  has  some  excellent  land 
and  is  elevated  from  fifteen  to  thirty  feet  above  the  sea. 
The  river  here,  at  Jupiter  Narrows,  is  less  than  half  a  mile 
wide.  The  western  bank  is  from  forty  to  fifty  feet  high 
and  covered  with  a  dense  low  scrub  of  live  oak  bushes,  not 
more  than  two  or  three  feet  high,  and  when  viewed  from 
the  Island,  these  heights  remind  one  of  the  green  pastures 
of  the  north — they  are  always  the  same  colour,  a  beautiful 
green.  This  portion  of  the  river  is  full  of  oysters  and  the 
inlet  is  the  finest  fishing  on  the  coast.  On  the  bank  of 
the  river,  at  various  places,  are  large  mounds  of  clam  and 
oyster  shells ;  the  largest  of  them  near  Jupiter  Inlet,  is 
nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  long  and  about  forty  feet  high. 

At  the  north  end  of  the  river  are  some  fine  live  oak  and 
palm  hummock  lands,  very  rich  and  suitable  for  orange, 
groves,  sugar-cane  and  garden  vegetables.  The  climate 
from  October  to  May  is  a  perpetual  Indian  summer,  com- 
mingled with  the  balm-iest  days  of  spring,  seldom  interrupted 
by  storms  and  only  with  occasional  showers,  while  most  of 
the  time  there  is  a  gentle  breeze  coming  inland  from  the 
even-tempered  waters  of  the  Gulf  Stream.  The  pre- 
vailing winds  are  easterly,  being  the  trade  winds,  which  ex- 
tend as  far  north  as  Cape  Carnaveral  and  are  perceptible  as 
far  north  as  New  Smyrna  and  St.  Augustine.  The  nights 
are  cool  even  in  summer — the  atmosphere  invigourating 
and  health  restoring. 


212  THE  INDIAN  RIVER 

Mineral  and  other  springs  are  frequent,  many  of  them 
possessing  medicinal  properties.  Game  is  abundant — bear, 
deer,  quail  and  wild  turkeys  on  the  land,  ducks  on  the  lakes 
and  rivers,  and  green  turtle  and  fish  in  the  waters.  All  of 
these,  with  its  beautiful  building  sites,  its  superior  surf  bath- 
ing and  boat  sailing,  the  absence  of  swamps  and  marshes, 
will  eventually  cause  the  banks  of  this  magnificent  sheet  of 
water  to  become  one  vast  villa  of  winter  residences. 


THE  NILE 

J.  HOWARD  REED 

THE  holy  river — "  the  Jove-descended  Nile  " — formerly 
bore  the  name  of  ^Egyptus.  Professor  Rawlinson 
in  his  History  of  the  Ancient  Egyptians,  says  :  "  The  term 
Egypt  was  not  known  to  the  ancient  Egyptians  themselves, 
but  appears  to  have  been  first  used  by  the  Greeks  as  a  name 
for  the  Nile,  and  thence  extended  to  the  country.  It  is 
stated  by  some  authorities  that  the  river  received  its  present 
title  from  Nilus,  an  ancient  king  of  Thebes,  who  named  the 
stream  after  himself." 

"  Father  Nile  "  was  an  object  of  great  veneration  to  the 
ancients,  and  a  gift  of  its  waters  was  considered  by  them  as 
a  present  fit  for  kings  and  queens.  The  veneration  in 
which  the  river  was  held,  of  course,  arose  from  the  bless- 
ings of  its  annual  overflow  spread  broadcast  over  its  banks 
by  fertilizing  the  seed  of  the  sower,  producing  abundant 
crops  for  the  sickle  of  the  reaper,  and  thus  making  glad  the 
heart  of  man.  It  is  stated  that  the  Arabs  in  the  present  day 
consider  it  a  delicious  privilege  to  slake  their  thirst  with 
the  salubrious  and  agreeable  waters  of  the  river,  and  I  have 
read  that  they  will  even  artificially  excite  thirst  to  indulge 
in  the  pleasure  of  imbibing  refreshing  and  satisfying 
draughts  from  the  "  holy  stream."  The  general  Pescennius 
Niger  is  said  to  have  cried  to  his  soldiers  :  "  What !  crave 
you  for  wine,  when  you  have  the  water  of  the  Nile  to 
drink  ?  "  Homer  is  stated  to  have  said,  no  doubt  referring 


214  THE  NILE 

poetically  to  its  regular  and  fertilizing  overflow :  "  The 
Nile  flows  down  from  heaven."  The  Egyptians  say  that 
"  If  Mahomet  had  tasted  the  waters  of  the  Nile,  he  would 
have  prayed  God  to  make  him  immortal,  that  he  might  have 
enjoyed  them  for  ever." 

The  river  has  a  total  length  of  considerably  over  3,000 
miles,  and  is  remarkable  among  the  rivers  of  the  world  from 
the  fact  that  for  about  the  last  1,500  miles  of  its  flow  it  re- 
ceives no  tributary — none,  in  fact,  after  the  Albara  or 
Tacazze.  The  consequence  is  that,  by  the  time  it  reaches 
the  sea,  its  volume  is  considerably  reduced  by  evaporation, 
and  from  the  large  quantity  of  water  used  along  its  banks 
for  irrigation  and  other  purposes.  The  river  is  formed  of 
two  principal  branches,  the  Bahr-el-Azrek,  or  Blue  Nile, 
and  the  Bahr-el-Abiad,  or  White  Nile,  the  latter  of  which 
is  the  main  branch  or  true  Nile.  It  receives  also,  as  trib- 
utary rivers,  the  Atbara  or  Tacazze  before  mentioned,  with 
the  Sobat  and  Asua  on  the  east  side ;  and  the  Bahr-el-Ga- 
zelle  on  the  west ;  besides  other  smaller  and  less  important 
streams.  Its  waters  are  discharged  into  the  Mediterranean 
through  several  mouths,  the  two  principal  of  which  are 
known  as  the  Rosetta  and  Damietta  mouths — the  first-named 
being  to  the  west  and  the  other  to  the^east.  The  princi- 
pal island  formed  by  the  divisions  of  the  river  being  shaped 
like  the  fourth  letter  of  the  Greek  alphabet,  takes  the  name 
of  Delta ;  and  the  Nile  is  doubtless  the  river  which  first 
suggested  what  is  now  a  technical  name  for  all  similar  for- 
mations at  the  mouths  of  rivers. 

The  rise  and  overflow  of  the  Nile  caused  by  the  seasonal 
rains  of  the  interior,  has  been  for  ages  noted  for  its  regular- 
ity. The  rise  commences  about  midsummer,  reaches  its 
greatest  height  at  the  autumnal  equinox,  and  has  again  sub- 


• 


THE  NILE  215 

sided  by  Christmas ;  leaving  the  land  highly  enriched  by  the 
fertilizing  sediment  of  red  earth  brought  down  by  the  Abys- 
sinian tributaries  and  deposited  by  the  river.  The  land 
can  then  be  worked  and  the  crops  planted.  The  rise  and 
fall  of  the  river  is  watched  with  great  anxiety  by  the  inhab- 
itants of  the  Nile  valley.  At  intervals  along  its  banks 
river  gauges,  or  nilometers,  are  fixed,  upon  which  the  varia- 
tions of  the  river  are  duly  recorded. 

Nearly  five  centuries  before  the  Christian  era,  the  first 
great  African  traveller,  Herodotus,  writing  about  the  Nile, 
said  :  "  Respecting  the  nature  of  this  river,  I  was  unable  to 
gain  any  information,  either  from  the  priests  or  any  one  else. 
I  was  very  desirous,  however,  of  learning  from  them  why 
the  Nile,  beginning  at  the  summer  solstice,  fills  and  over- 
flows for  a  hundred  days ;  and  when  it  has  nearly  completed 
this  number  of  days,  falls  short  in  its  stream  and  retires  ;  so 
that  it  continues  low  all  the  winter,  until  the  return  of  the 
summer  solstice." 

Seneca  writes  that  the  Emperor  Nero  sent  an  exploring 
expedition  under  two  centurions  with  military  force  to  ex- 
plore the  countries  along  the  banks  of  the  Astapus  or 
White  River,  and  to  search  for  the  Nile's  sources.  They 
passed  down  the  river  a  considerable  distance  until  immense 
marshes  were  met  with.  They  forced  their  way  through, 
and  continued  their  journey  southward,  until  the  river  was 
seen  "  tumbling  down  or  issuing  out  between  the  rocks." 
They  were  then  obliged  to  turn  back  and  declare  their 
mission  a  failure.  The  centurions  are  stated  to  have  brought 
back  with  them  a  map  of  the  districts  they  had  passed 
through,  for  the  information  of  the  Imperial  Nero. 

This  early  expedition  succeeded  in  penetrating  about  800 
Roman  miles  south  of  Meroe — that  is  to  say,  reaching  three 


Il6  THE  NILE 

or  four  degrees  north  latitude.  The  place  where  water  was 
seen  "  tumbling  down  from  between  the  rocks  "  was  prob- 
ably the  Fola  or  Mekade  cataract,  again  discovered  in  our 
own  day  by  the  late  General  Gordon.  The  river  here 
rushes  through  a  narrow  ravine,  over  and  between  rocks  of 
from  thirty  to  forty  feet  high.  These  falls  are  stated  to  be 
the  only  insurmountable  obstacle  to  the  navigation  of  the 
Nile,  for  vessels  of  considerable  size,  from  the  Mediter- 
ranean to  the  Albert  Lake. 

About  seventy  years  later,  during  the  Second  Century, 
we  find  Claudius  Ptolemy,  a  celebrated  geographer  and  as- 
trologer of  Alexandria,  writing  about  the  Nile  and  its 
sources.  He  tells  us  that  the  "  holy  stream  "  rises  some 
twelve  degrees  south  of  the  equator,  in  a  number  of  streams 
that  flow  into  two  lakes,  situated  east  and  west  of  each 
other;  from  which,  in  turn,  issue  two  rivers;  these  after- 
wards unite  and  form  the  Nile.  Ptolemy  also  mentions 
that  in  the  interior  of  Africa  were  some  mountains  which 
he  called  "  Selenes  Oros" — generally  translated  "  Mountains 
of  the  Moon." 

Following  in  the  steps  of  Ptolemy,  come  the  Arab  geog- 
raphers, and  they  are  stated  to  have  practically  adopted  all 
his  theories  and  geographical  notions. 

Later  on  we  find  that  the  Portugese  travellers  obtained  a 
considerable  amount  of  information  regarding  the  geography 
of  the  interior  of  Africa.  They  appear  to  have  had  some 
knowledge  of  the  existence  of  several  large  lakes  in  the 
centre  of  the  continent,  and  in  some  of  their  early  maps 
these  lakes  find  a  place. 

It  appears  to  have  been  known  to  the  ancients  that  the 
Nile  proper  is  formed  of  two  principal  branches,  which 
join  and  form  one  river  close  to  where  the  town  of  Khar- 


THE  NILE  217 

toum  (or  its  ruin)  now  stands ;  but  beyond  this,  as  we  have 
seen,  little  authentic  information  has  been  handed  down. 

In  the  year  1770,  Bruce  gave  his  attention  to  the  Blue 
Nile.  He  was  enabled  to  locate  the  sources  of  that  branch 
of  the  river  among  the  mountains  and  highlands  of  Abys- 
sinia, near  Lake  Dembea.  In  1 788,  the  African  Association 
was  founded,  and  in  furtherance  of  its  objects  much  in- 
formation was  obtained  of  the  geography  of  the  "  Dark 
Continent."  In  1827,  M.  Linant,  a  French  traveller, 
passed  up  the  White  Nile  to  a  considerable  distance  above 
its  junction  with  the  Blue  Nile  branch.  About  the  year 
1840  two  Egyptian  naval  officers  headed  an  expedition,  fitted 
out  by  Mahommed  Ali,  the  then  ruler  of  Egypt;  they 
forced  their  way  through  the  terrible  marshes  to  within  3° 
4"  of  the  equator ;  but  were,  like  the  expedition  of  the  Em- 
peror Nero,  at  last  obliged  to  turn  back. 

In  1831,  the  old  African  Association  was  merged  into  the 
Royal  Geographical  Society,  and  from  then,  right  down  to 
the  present  time,  our  knowledge  of  the  Nile  and  its  sources 
has  been  perfecting  itself. 

While  resting  on  the  plateau  land  above  the  south-west 
corner  of  the  Albert  Lake,  on  the  25th  of  May,  1888,  Stan- 
ley's attention  was  called  to  a  towering  mountain  height 
capped  with  snow,  which,  from  where  he  stood,  lay  about 
fifty  miles  away  to  the  south-east.  Twelve  months  later 
on  his  homeward  journey,  after  crossing  the  Semliki  River, 
which  he  found  flowing  into  the  south  end  of  the  Albert 
Lake,  Stanley  found  himself  following  a  range  of  hills,  the 
tops  of  which  towering  up  some  19,000  feet  high,  were 
covered  with  perpetual  snow.  This  melting  under  the 
action  of  a  tropical  sun,  poured  its  volumes  of  water  into 
the  Semliki  River  at  his  feet,  which  in  turn  conveyed  it 


2l8  THE  NILE 

thence  to  the  Albert  Lake  and  onwards  to  swell  the  torrent 
of  Father  Nile. 

Stanley  writes  :  "  Little  did  we  imagine  it,  but  the  re- 
sults of  our  journey  from  the  Albert  Nyanza  to 

where  I  turned  away  from  the  newly-discovered  lake  in 
1876,  established  beyond  a  doubt  that  the  snowy  mountain, 
which  bears  the  native  name  of  Ruwenzori  or  Ruwenjura, 
is  identical  with  what  the  ancients  called  l  Mountains  of 
the  Moon.' 

"  Note  what  Scheadeddin,  an  Arabian  geographer  of  the 
Fifteenth  Century  writes :  4  From  the  Mountains  of  the 
Moon  the  Egyptian  Nile  takes  its  rise.  It  cuts  horizon- 
tally the  equator  in  its  course  north.  Many  rivers  come 
from  this  mountain  and  unite  in  a  great  lake.  From  this 
lake  comes  the  Nile,  the  most  beautiful  and  greatest  of  the 
rivers  of  all  the  earth.'  " 


THE  NILE 

ISAAC  TAYLOR 

AFTER  a  few  days  at  Cairo — one  of  the  most  amus- 
ing and  picturesque  cities  in  the  world — the  Ex- 
press Nile  Service  of  Messrs.  Cook  brings  the  traveller  in 
three  days  to  Luxor,  where  he  will  find  enough  to  occupy 
him  for  as  many  weeks.  The  first  view  from  the  river 
shows  the  appositeness  of  the  epithet  Hecatompylos,  ap- 
plied to  Thebes  by  Homer.  Huge  cubical  masses  of 
masonry — not  the  gateways  of  the  city,  which  was  never 
walled,  but  the  pylons  and  propylons  of  the  numerous  tem- 
ples— are  seen  towering  above  the  palms,  and,  separated 
from  each  other  by  miles  of  verdant  plain,  roughly  indicate 
the  limits  of  the  ancient  city. 

At  Luxor  the  Nile  valley  is  about  ten  miles  across.  The 
escarpment  of  the  desert  plateau,  which  elsewhere  forms  a 
fringing  clifF  of  nearly  uniform  elevation,  here  breaks  into 
cone-shaped  peaks  rising  to  a  height  of  seventeen  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  plain,  which  in  January  is  already  wav- 
ing with  luxuriant  crops — the  barley  coming  into  ear,  the 
lentils  and  vetches  in  flower  and  the  tall  sugar-canes  be- 
ginning to  turn  yellow.  The  plain  is  dotted  with  Arab 
villages,  each  raised  above  the  level  of  the  inundation  on 
its  tell,  or  mound  of  ancient  debris,  and  embosomed  in  a 
grove  of  date-palms  mingled  with  the  quaint  dom-palms 
characteristic  of  the  Thebiad.  Animal  life  is  far  more 
abundant  than  in  Italy  or  France.  We  note  the  camels 
and  buffaloes  feeding  everywhere,  tethered  in  the  fields ;  the 


220  THE  NILE 

great  soaring  kites  floating  in  the  air ;  the  graceful  hoopoos, 
which  take  the  place  of  our  English  thrushes ;  the  white 
paddy-birds  fishing  on  the  sand-banks  of  the  river;  gay 
king-fishers,  among  them  the  fish-tiger  pied  in  black  and 
white;  the  sun-bird,  a  bee-eater  clad  in  a  brilliant  coat  of 
green  and  gold ;  the  crested  lark,  the  greater  and  lesser  owl, 
as  well  as  water-wagtails,  pipits,  chats  and  warblers,  numer- 
ous swifts  and  swallows,  with  an  occasional  vulture,  eagle, 
cormorant,  pelican,  or  crane.  The  jackal  is  common  ;  and 
the  wolf,  the  hyena,  and  the  fox  are  not  unfrequently 
heard,  but  seldom  seen. 

The  sunsets  on  the  Nile,  if  not  the  finest  in  the  world, 
are  unique  in  character.  This  is  probably  due  to  the  ex- 
cessive dryness  of  the  atmosphere,  and  to  the  haze  of  im- 
palpable dust  arising  from  the  fine  mud  deposited  by  the 
inundation.  As  the  sun  descends,  he  leaves  a  pathway  or 
glowing  gold  reflected  from  the  smooth  surface  of  the  Nile. 
Any  faint  streaks  of  cloud  in  the  west  shine  out  as  the 
tenderest  and  most  translucent  bars  of  rose  ;  a  lurid  reflec- 
tion of  the  sunset  lights  up  the  eastern  sky ;  then  half  an 
hour  after  sunset  a  great  dome  of  glow  arises  in  the  west, 
lemon,  changing  into  the  deepest  orange,  and  slowly  dying 
away  into  a  crimson  fringe  on  the  horizon — the  glassy  mir- 
ror of  the  Nile  gleaming  like  molten  metal ;  and  then,  as 
the  last  hues  of  sunset  fade,  the  zodiacal  light,  a  huge  milky 
cone,  shoots  up  into  the  sky. 

On  moonless  nights  the  stars  shine  out  with  a  brilliancy 
unknown  in  our  misty  northern  latitudes.  About  three  in 
the  morning  the  strange  marvel  of  the  Southern  Cross  rises 
for  an  hour  or  two,  the  lowest  star  of  the  four  appearing 
through  a  fortunate  depression  in  the  chain  of  hills.  When 
the  moon  is  nearly  full,  the  visitors  sally  out  into  the  tern- 


THE  NILE  221 

pies  to  enjoy  in  the  clear,  calm  and  balmy  air  the  mystery 
of  their  dark  recesses,  enhanced  by  the  brilliant  illumination 
of  the  thickly  clustered  columns.  It  is  a  sight,  once  seen, 
never  to  be  forgotten. 

But  the  charm  of  Luxor  does  not  consist  mainly  in  its 
natural  beauties,  though  these  are  not  to  be  despised,  but 
in  its  unrivalled  historical  interest.  There  is  no  other  site 
of  a  great  ancient  city  which  takes  you  so  far  and  so  clearly 
back  into  the  past.  All  the  greater  monuments  of  Thebes, 
all  the  chief  tombs  and  temples,  are  older  than  the  time  of 
Moses;  they  bear  in  clearly  readable  cartouches  on  their 
sculptured  walls  the  names  of  the  great  conquering  kings  of 
the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth  dynasties — Thotmes  III., 
Amenhotep  III.,  Seti  I.,  and  Rameses  II. — who  carried  the 
victorious  arms  of  Egypt  to  Ethiopia,  Lybia,  the  Euphrates 
and  the  Orontes ;  the  great  wall-faces  forming  a  picture- 
gallery  of  their  exploits.  More  modern  names  on  the  tem- 
ple-walls of  Thebes  are  those  of  Shishak,  who  vanquished 
Rehoboam,  and  Tirhakah,  the  contemporary  of  Hezekiah. 
The  earliest  name  yet  found  at  Thebes  is  that  of  Usertasen, 
a  king  of  the  twelfth  dynasty,  who  lived  some  forty-three 
centuries  ago ;  the  latest  considerable  additions  were  made 
by  the  Ptolemies,  and  the  record  finally  closes  with  a  car- 
touche in  which  we  spell  out  the  hieroglyphic  name  of  the 
Emperor  Tiberius.  But  practically  the  monumental  history 
of  Thebes  has  ended  before  that  of  ancient  Rome  begins. 
The  arches  of  Titus  and  Constantine,  the  mausoleum  of 
Hadrian,  Trajan's  Column,  the  Colosseum  and  the  Cata- 
combs — in  short,  all  the  great  structures  of  pre-Christian 
Rome — date  from  a  time  when  Thebes  had  begun  to  be 
forsaken,  and  the  ruin  of  her  temples  had  commenced. 
Even  the  oldest  Roman  monuments,  the  Cloaca  Maxima, 


222  THE  NILE 

the  Agger,  and  the  substructures  of  the  Palatine  belong  to 
a  period  when  the  greater  edifices  of  Thebes  were  hoary 
with  the  dust  of  centuries.  When  Herodotus,  the  father 
of  European  history,  voyaged  up  the  Nile  to  Thebes,  at  a 
time  when  the  Greeks  had  not  even  heard  of  an  obscure 
Italian  town  which  bore  the  name  of  Rome,  the  great  tem- 
ples which  he  saw,  the  vocal  Memnon  which  is  the  statue 
of  Amenhotep  III.,  and  the  buildings  which  he  ascribed  to 
a  king  he  called  Sesostris,  already  belonged  to  an  antiquity 
as  venerable  as  that  which  separates  the  Heptarchy  and  the 
Anglo-Saxon  Kings  from  the  reign  of  Queen  Victoria. 

Difficult  as  it  is  to  realize  the  antiquity  of  these  monu- 
ments, in  many  of  which  the  chiselling  is  as  sharp  and  the 
colouring  as  brilliant  as  if  they  had  been  executed  only  yes- 
terday, it  is  still  more  difficult  by  any  description  to  convey 
an  impression  of  their  vastness.  The  temples  and  tombs 
are  scattered  over  a  space  of  many  square  miles  ;  single 
ruins  cover  an  area  of  several  acres ;  thousands  of  square 
yards  of  wall  contain  only  the  pictured  story  of  a  single 
campaign.  For  splendour  and  magnitude  the  group  of  tem- 
ples at  Karnak,  about  two  miles,  from  Luxor,  forms  the 
most  magnificent  ruin  in  the  world. 


THE  DON 

fiLISEE  R^CLUS 

THE  lands  draining  to  the  Sea  of  Azov,  form  no  sharply 
defined  region,  with  bold  natural  frontiers  and 
distinct  populations.  The  sources  of  the  Don  and  its  head- 
streams  intermingle  with  those  of  the  Volga  and  Dnieper 
— some — like  the  Medveditza,  flowing  even  for  some 
distance  parallel  with  the  Volga.  As  in  the  Dnieper  and 
Dniester  valleys,  the  "  black  lands  "  and  bare  steppes  here 
also  follow  each  other  successively  as  we  proceed  south- 
wards, while  the  population  naturally  diminishes  in  density 
in  the  same  direction.  The  land  is  occupied  in  the  north 
and  east  by  the  Great  Russians,  westwards  by  the  Little 
Russians,  in  the  south  and  in  New  Russia  by  colonies  of 
every  race  and  tongue,  rendering  this  region  a  sort  of  com- 
mon territory,  where  all  the  peoples  of  the  empire  except 
the  Finns  are  represented.  Owing  to  the  great  extent  of 
the  steppes,  the  population  is  somewhat  less  dense  than  in 
the  Dnieper  basin  and  Central  Russia,  but  it  is  yearly  and 
rapidly  increasing. 

The  Don,  the  root  of  which  is  probably  contained  in  its 
Greek  name  Tanai's,  is  one  of  the  great  European  rivers,  if 
not  in  the  volume  of  its  waters,  at  least  in  the  length  of  its 
course,  with  its  windings  some  1,335  miles  altogether. 
Rising  in  a  lakelet  in  the  government  of  Tula,  it  flows  first 
southwards  to  its  junction  with  the  nearly  parallel  Veronej, 
beyond  which  point  it  trends  to  the  south-east,  and  even 
eastwards,  as  if  extending  to  reach  the  Volga.  After 


224  THE  DON 

being  enlarged  by  the  Khopor  and  Medveditza,  it  arrives 
within  forty-five  miles  of  that  river,  above  which  it  has  a 
mean  elevation  of  138  feet.  Its  banks,  like  those  of  the 
Volga,  present  the  normal  appearance,  the  right  being  raised 
and  steep,  while  the  left  has  already  been  levelled  by  the 
action  of  the  water.  Thus  the  Don  flows,  as  it  were,  on  a 
sort  of  terrace  resembling  a  stair  step,  the  right  or  western 
cliffs  seemingly  diverting  it  to  the  lower  Volga  bed.  Nev- 
ertheless, before  reaching  that  river,  it  makes  a  sharp  bend 
first  southwards,  then  south-westwards  to  the  Sea  of  Azov. 
From  a  commercial  stand-point,  it  really  continues  the 
course  of  the  Volga.  Flowing  to  a  sea  which,  through  the 
Straits  of  Yeni-Kaleh,  the  Bosphorus,  Dardanelles,  and 
Gibraltar,  communicates  with  the  ocean,  it  has  the  im- 
mense advantage  over  the  Volga  of  not  losing  itself  in  a 
land-locked  basin.  Hence  most  of  the  goods  brought  down 
the  Volga  are  landed  at  the  bend  nearest  the  Don,  and 
forwarded  to  that  river.  When  besieging  Astrakhan  the 
Sultan  Selim  II.  had  already  endeavoured  to  cut  a  canal 
between  the  two  rivers,  in  order  to  transport  his  supplies 
to  the  Caspian.  Peter  the  Great  resumed  the  works,  but 
the  undertaking  was  abandoned,  and  until  the  middle  of  the 
present  century  the  portage  was  crossed  only  by  beasts  of 
burden  and  wagons.  But  since  1861  the  rivers  have  been 
connected  by  rail.  Free  from  ice  for  about  two  hundred 
and  forty  days  at  its  easternmost  bend,  the  Don  is  some- 
times so  low  and  blocked  with  shoals  that  navigation  be- 
comes difficult  even  for  flat-bottomed  boats.  During  the 
two  floods,  at  the  melting  of  the  ice  in  spring,  and  in  the 
summer  rains,  its  lower  course  rises  eighteen  to  twenty  feet 
above  its  normal  level,  overflowing  its  banks  in  several 
places  for  a  distance  of  eighteen  miles. 


THE  DON  225 

The  most  important,  although  not  the  most  extensive, 
coal-fields  of  Russia  cover  an  area  of  about  10,000  square 
miles,  chiefly  in  the  southern  part  of  the  Donetz  basin. 
Since  1865,  nearly  650  beds  have  been  found,  mostly  near 
the  surface,  the  seams  varying  in  thickness  from  one  foot  to 
twenty-four  feet,  and  containing  every  description  of  com- 
bustible material,  from  the  anthracite  to  the  richest  bitu- 
minous coal.  The  ravines  here  furrowing  the  land  facili- 
tate the  study  of  the  strata  and  the  extraction  of  the  min- 
eral. Yet  these  valuable  deposits  were  long  neglected,  and 
even  during  the  Crimean  war  the  Russians,  deprived  of 
their  English  supplies,  were  still  without  the  necessary 
apparatus  to  avail  themselves  of  these  treasures. 

Even  the  iron  ores,  which  here  also  abound,  were  little 
utilized  till  that  event,  since  when  the  extraction  both  of 
coal  and  iron  has  gone  on  continually  increasing  in  the 
Donetz  basin.  In  1839,  the  yield  scarcely  exceeded  14,000 
tons,  whereas  the  output  of  the  Grushova  mines  alone  now 
amounts  to  210,000  tons,  and  the  total  yield  of  the  coal- 
pits exceeded  672,000  tons  in  1872.  The  coal  is  now  used 
by  the  local  railways  and  steamers  of  the  Don,  Sea  of 
Azov,  and  Euxine. 

Already  reduced  in  extent  by  the  terrestrial  revolutions 
which  separated  it  from  the  Caspian,  the  Sea  of  Azov  has 
been  further  diminished  in  historic  times,  although  far  less 
than  might  be  supposed  from  the  local  traditions.  No 
doubt  Herodotus  gives  the  Palus  Maeotis  an  equal  area  to 
that  of  the  Euxine.  But  as  soon  as  the  Greeks  had  visited 
and  founded  settlements  on  this  inland  sea  they  discovered 
how  limited  it  was  compared  with  the  open  sea.  Never- 
theless, fifteen  hundred  years  ago  it  was  certainly  somewhat 
larger  and  deeper  than  at  present,  the  alluvia  of  the  Don 


226  THE  DON, 

having  gradually  narrowed  its  basin  and  raised  its  bed.  Its 
outline  also  has  been  completely  changed,  Strabo's  descrip- 
tion no  longer  answering  to  the  actual  form  of  its  shores. 

The  town  of  Tanai's,  founded  by  the  Greeks,  at  the  very 
mouth  of  the  Don,  and  which  at  the  time  of  Ptolemy  was 
already  at  some  distance  from  the  coast,  has  ceased  to  exist. 
But  the  architectural  remains  and  inscriptions  discovered 
by  Leontiyev  between  Siniavka  and  the  village  of  Nedoi- 
govka,  show  that  its  site  was  about  six  miles  from  the  old 
mouth  of  the  Great  Don,  since  changed  to  a  dry  bed.  The 
course  of  the  main  stream  has  been  deflected  southwards, 
and  here  is  the  town  of  Azov,  for  a  time  the  successor  of 
Tanai's  in  strategic  and  commercial  importance.  But  where 
the  flow  is  most  abundant,  there  also  the  alluvium  encroaches 
most  rapidly,  and  the  delta  would  increase  even  at  a  still 
more  accelerated  rate  for  the  fierce  east  and  north-east 
gales  prevailing  for  a  great  part  of  the  year.  The  sedi- 
mentary matter  brought  down,  in  the  proportion  of  about 
one  to  1,200  of  fluid,  amounts  altogether  to  230,160,000 
cubic  feet,  causing  a  mean  annual  advance  of  nearly  twenty- 
two  feet. 

The  Gulf  of  Taganrog,  about  eighty  miles  long  and 
forming  the  north-east  extremity  of  the  sea,  may,  on  the 
whole,  be  regarded  as  a  simple  continuation  of  the  Don,  as 
regards  both  the  character  of  its  water  and  its  current,  and 
the  windings  of  its  navigable  channel.  This  gulf,  with  a 
mean  depth  of  from  ten  to  twelve  and  nowhere  exceeding 
twenty-four  feet,  seems  to  have  diminished  by  nearly  two 
feet  since  the  first  charts,  dating  from  the  time  of  Peter  the 
Great.  But  a  comparison  of  the  soundings  taken  at  vari- 
ous times  is  somewhat  difficult,  as  the  exact  spots  where 
they  were  taken  and  the  kind  of  feet  employed  are  some- 


THE  DON  227 

what  doubtful,  not  to  mention  the  state  of  the  weather,  and 
especially  the  direction  of  the  winds  during  the  operations. 
Under  the  influence  of  the  winds  the  level  of  the  sea  may  be 
temporarily  raised  or  lowered  at  various  points  as  much  as 
ten  or  even  sixteen  or  seventeen  feet.  The  mean  depth  of 
the  whole  sea  is  about  thirty-two  feet,  which,  for  an  area 
of  14,217  square  miles,  would  give  an  approximate  volume 
of  13,000  billion  cubic  feet,  or  about  four  times  that  of 
Lake  Geneva.  The  bed,  composed,  like  the  surrounding 
steppes,  of  argillaceous  sands,  unbroken  anywhere  by  a 
single  rock,  is  covered,  at  an  extremely  low  rate  of  progress, 
with  fresh  strata,  in  which  organic  remains  are  mingled 
with  the  sandy  detritus  of  the  shores.  If  a  portion  of  the 
sedimentary  matter  brought  down  by  the  Don  were  not 
carried  out  to  the  Euxine,  the  inner  sea  would  be  filled  up 
in  the  space  of  56,500  years. 


THE  COLUMBIA 

J.  BODDAM-WHETHAM 

THE  Mackenzie  River  flows  through  the  plain,  and  is 
singularly  beautiful.  Great  blocks  of  basalt  come 
sheer  down  to  the  water's  edge,  and  are  divided  naturally 
with  great  exactitude  into  huge  segments.  Their  yellow 
and  brown  colours  are  reflected  with  wondrous  effect  on 
the  surface  of  the  stream.  After  a  few  most  pleasant  days, 
passed  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Eugene  City,  I  went  on  to 
Oregon  City,  and  there  remained  to  visit  the  Falls  of  the 
Willamette. 

The  river  narrows  near  the  town,  and  the  water,  rushing 
very  swiftly,  is  precipitated  down  a  fall  of  about  fifty  feet. 
The  rocks  on  either  side  are  of  deep  black  basalt ;  and 
these  huge  walls,  when  viewed  from  the  south,  are  ex- 
tremely grand.  It  is  only  when  they  are  seen  from  below 
that  the  mind  is  fully  impressed  with  the  magnificence  of 
these  falls.  They  have  been  worn  into  a  horseshoe  form 
by  the  action  of  the  stream,  and  the  river  plunges  into  the 
depths  below  in  great  curves  and  sweeping  currents. 
Masses  of  broken  basalt  show  their  heads  amidst  the  rush 
of  foaming  waters,  and  altogether  there  is  a  noise,  mist,  and 
confusion  enough  to  justify  the  Oregonians  in  their  pride 
of  their  miniature  Niagara.  Formerly,  these  falls  were  the 
only  obstruction  to  the  free  navigation  of  the  river,  but  now 
it  is  overcome  by  the  construction  of  locks,  which  have 


THE  COLUMBIA  2  29 

been  built  in  the  most  substantial  manner.  The  scenery  of 
the  river  is  very  picturesque  and  diversified,  and  a  lovely 
panorama  of  hill  and  dale,  water  and  forest  is  continually 
passing  before  the  view. 

Portland  had  lately  been  nearly  destroyed  by  fire,  conse- 
quently I  had  not  a  good  opportunity  of  judging  of  the 
town.  It  is,  however,  beautifully  situated  on  the  Willa- 
mette River,  and  is  surrounded  by  magnificent  forests. 
There  are  some  delightful  drives  through  the  woods,  one 
especially  to  a  place  called  the  White  House,  through  a 
succession  of  glades  and  glens  full  of  splendid  trees  and 
sweet-scented  shrubs,  and  with  views  of  peculiar  quiet 
loveliness. 

The  Willamette  runs  into  the  Columbia  River  about 
twelve  miles  below  Portland ;  so,  taking  the  morning 
steamer,  I  prepared  to  ascend  that  river,  which  for  grandeur 
of  scenery  is  not  surpassed  by  any  river  (with  the  exception, 
perhaps,  of  the  Fraser)  on  the  American  continent. 

We  started  so  early  that  a  grey  fog  swallowed  up  every- 
thing, and  the  only  objects  visible  were  the  paddle-boxes 
and  the  funnel. 

We  steamed  very  slowly  and  cautiously  down  the 
Willamette,  and  as  we  approached  the  junction  of  that  river 
with  the  Columbia  the  mist  lifted.  As  it  slowly  crept  back 
to  the  shores  and  up  the  hills  and  away  to  the  north,  moun- 
tains, sky  and  river  came  out  with  intense  brilliancy  and 
colour  under  the  rays  of  the  rising  sun. 

Wonderful  forests  extended  from  the  far  distance  down 
to  the  very  edge  of  the  river.  Beeches,  oaks,  pines,  and 
firs  of  enormous  size  formed  a  sombre  background,  against 
which  the  maple  and  ash  flamed  out  in  their  early  autumn 
tints.  On  the  north,  the  four  stately  snow-crowned  moun- 


230  THE  COLUMBIA 

tains,  Rainier,  St.  Helen's,  Jefferson,  and  Adams  lifted 
themselves,  rose-flushed,  high  up  in  the  heavens  ;  the  great 
river  flowed  rapidly  and  smoothly  between  mountain  shores, 
from  a  mile  to  a  mile  and  a  quarter  apart,  and  the  bold 
rocky  heights  towered  thousands  of  feet  in  the  air. 

The  mountains  line  the  river  for  miles.  When  occasion- 
ally a  deep  ravine  opens  you  catch  a  glimpse  of  distant 
levels,  bounded,  in  their  turn,  by  the  never-ending  chain  of 
mountains. 

There  is  a  rare  combination,  too,  of  beauty  about  these 
mountains ;  vegetation  and  great  variety  of  colour  height- 
ening the  picturesque  effect  of  the  huge  masses  of  bold  bare 
rock.  Now  and  then  the  cliffs  impeded  the  flow  of  the 
river,  which  then  ran,  disturbed  and  dangerous,  between 
rocky  islands  and  sand-bars.  Often  the  agitated  waters  be- 
came gradually  calm  and  formed  long  narrow  lakes,  with- 
out any  apparent  outlet,  until  a  sudden  turn  showed  a 
passage  through  the  lofty  walls  into  another  link  of  the 
water-chain. 

Sometimes  a  cataract  of  marvellous  beauty  came  leaping 
down  the  rocks  from  a  height  of  200  and  300  feet. 

The  Multanomah  Falls  in  particular  are  most  beautiful, 
possessing  both  the  swift  resistless  rush  of  the  downpour  of 
water  and  that  broken  picturesque  outline  which  is  the  prin- 
cipal charm  of  a  fall. 

Castle  Rock,  a  huge  boulder  with  basaltic  columns  like 
those  of  Staffa,  stands  out  grandly  and  alone  from  a  feathery 
mass  of  cotton-wood,  whose  golden  splendour  rivals  in 
beauty  that  of  the  spreading  dark  green  boughs  of  the  pines, 
whilst  the  contrast  of  colour  heightens  the  effect  of  each 
brilliant  hue. 

On  the  crest  of  the  rock  a  fringe  of  pine  trees,  growing 


THE  COLUMBIA  23! 

out  of  the  bare  stone  and  dwarfed  to  insignificance,  shows 
the  vast  height  of  this  rifted  dome. 

And  now  we  are  approaching  Cape  Horn,  whose  ramparts 
rise  sheer  and  straight,  like  a  columnar  wall,  800  feet  high. 

This  majestic  portal  forms  a  worthy  entrance  to  the  cas- 
cades. Fierce,  seething  rapids  extend  for  six  miles  up  the 
river,  and  the  track  of  the  "  portage  "  runs  near  the  water's 
edge  for  the  entire  distance.  The  river  is  narrowed  here 
by  lofty  heights  of  trap  rock,  and  the  bed  itself  is  nothing 
but  sharp  gigantic  rocks,  sometimes  hidden  by  the  water  and 
sometimes  forming  small  islands,  between  which  the  foam- 
ing torrent  rushes  with  tremendous  uproar. 

Near  where  the  "  portage  "  begins,  a  relic  of  Indian  war- 
fare, in  the  shape  of  an  old  block-house,  stands  under  the 
fir-trees. 

A  small  party  of  white  men  held  a  very  large  body  of  In- 
dians at  bay  for  several  days  in  1856;  and  as  the  provi- 
sions ran  short,  a  grand  attack  was  made  on  the  red  men, 
who  were  totally  routed  with  great  slaughter. 

The  scene  in  this  gorge  is  wild  in  the  extreme.  Passing 
Rooster  Rock,  the  mountain-sides  approach  each  other,  and 
the  river  flows  faster  and  fiercer;  the  pillared  walls  rise 
sometimes  to  a  height  of  nearly  3,000  feet,  and  the  wind 
roaring  through  the  ravine  beats  up  huge  waves  and  adds  to 
the  wild  grandeur  of  the  view.  Whenever  the  mountains 
recede  to  the  south,  Mount  Hood  fills  the  horizon.  Ris- 
ing 14,000  feet,  its  snow-covered  head  shines  out  magnifi- 
cently against  the  blue  sky,  with  unvarying  grandeur  and  a 
strangely  attractive  form. 

Soon  we  pass  an  Indian  burial-ground  called  Caffin 
Rock,  a  more  desolate  slope,  covered  with  rude  monuments 
of  rock  and  circular  heaps  of  piled  grey  stones. 


232  THE  COLUMBIA 

Dalles  City,  where  we  now  arrive,  ranks  as  the  second 
place  of  importance  in  Oregon.  It  takes  its  name  from 
the  "dales  "  or  rough  flag-stones,  which  impede  the  river, 
making  narrow  crooked  channels,  and  thereby  causing  an- 
other "  portage "  for  a  distance  of  fifteen  miles.  Above 
the  town  the  scene  changes ;  the  cliffs  disappear,  and  from 
splendid  forests  and  mountains  we  pass  into  a  region  of 
sand  and  desert.  One  tall  pillar  of  red  rock,  overlooking 
the  sandy  waste,  stands  up  forlorn  and  battered,  as  if  it  were 
the  last  fragment  of  a  giant  peak;  and  numbers  of  birds 
hovering  over  it  seem  to  regard  it  as  their  special  ob- 
servatory. 

Hot  white  sand  is  everywhere,  and  the  wind  scatters  it 
about  in  a  most  uncomfortable  manner,  covering  the  track 
and  half-stifling  you  in  its  blinding  showers.  The  river 
scenery  is  very  fine  all  along  this  passage,  the  Dalles  being 
a  succession  of  rapids,  falls,  and  eddying  currents. 

Although  it  was  late  in  the  season  hundreds  of  salmon 
were  still  ascending,  and  on  the  flat  shore-rocks  were  several 
Indian  lodges;  their  occupants  busily  engaged  in  spearing 
and  catching  the  fish. 

Their  usual  mode  of  catching  salmon  is  by  means  of 
nets  fastened  to  long  handles.  They  erect  wooden  scaffolds 
by  the  riverside  among  the  rocks,  and  there  await  the  ar- 
rival of  the  fish — scooping  up  thirty  or  forty  per  hour. 
They  are  also  very  skilful  at  spearing  them ;  rarely  missing 
a  fair  mark. 

At  one  of  the  falls  we  saw  a  most  treacherous  contrivance. 
A  large  tree  with  all  its  branches' lopped  off  had  been  brought 
to  the  edge  of  the  river  and  there  fastened,  with  its  smaller 
end  overhanging  the  foaming  fall.  A  large  willow  basket, 
about  ten  feet  deep  and  over  twenty  feet  in  circumference, 


THE  COLUMBIA  233 

was  suspended  at  the  end.  The  salmon  in  its  efforts  to 
leap  the  fall  would  tumble  in  the  basket,  and  an  Indian 
seated  in  it  would  then  knock  the  fish  on  the  head  with  a 
club  and  throw  it  on  shore. 

This  mode  requires  relays  of  men,  as  they  soon  get  almost 
drowned  by  the  quantity  of  spray  and  water.  Very  often, 
between  two  and  three  hundred  salmon  are  caught  in  a  day 
in  this  manner.  We  saw  about  twenty,  averaging  in  weight 
from  five  to  twenty  pounds,  caught  in  the  hour  during 
which  we  watched  the  process.  But  the  hook-nosed 
salmon — coarse,  nasty  fish — were  the  most  abundant. 
They  always  appear  in  the  autumn,  and  are  found  every- 
where. The  salmon  are  in  their  greatest  perfection  in  the 
Columbia  River  towards  the  end  of  June.  The  best  va- 
riety is  called  the  "  chinook,"  and  weighs  from  twenty  to 
forty  pounds.  This  species  is  generally  accompanied  in  its 
ascent  by  a  smaller  variety,  weighing  on  an  average  about 
ten  pounds,  and  which  is  also  extremely  good  eating. 
Gradually  as  the  salmon  go  higher  and  higher  up  the  river, 
their  flesh  changes  from  a  bright  red  to  a  paler  colour  until 
it  becomes  quite  white.  There  are  such  enormous  quanti- 
ties of  them  that  they  can  be  easily  jerked  on  shore  with  a 
stick,  and  they  actually  jostle  each  other  out  of  the  water. 
It  is  estimated  that  over  500,000  salmon  were  taken  out 
of  the  Columbia  River  during  the  year  1872.  There  is  a 
perfectly  true  story  of  a  traveller  who,  when  riding,  had  to 
cross  a  stream  running  from  the  Cascade  Mountains,  at  a 
spot  where  the  fish  were  toiling  up  in  thousands ;  and  so 
quickly  were  they  packed  as  to  impede  the  progress  of  the 
horse,  which  became  so  frightened  as  almost  to  unseat  his 
rider. 

When  the  salmon  are  caught,  the  squaws  cure  them  by 


234  THE  COLUMBIA 

splitting  them  and  drying  the  pieces  upon  wickerwork 
scaffoldings.  Afterwards  they  smoke  them  over  fires  of  fir 
branches.  The  wanton  destruction  and  waste  of  these  fish 
is  terrible.  In  the  season  the  Indians  will  only  take  the 
fish  in  the  highest  condition,  and  those  that  do  not  satisfy 
their  fastidious  tastes  are  thrown  back  mutilated  and  dying 
into  the  water.  Even  when  they  have  killed  sufficient  to 
last  them  for  years,  they  still  go  to  the  falls  and  catch  and 
spear  all  they  can,  leaving  the  beautiful  silvery  salmon  to 
rot  on  the  stones.  Salmon  ought  certainly  to  have  "  Ex- 
celsior "  for  a  motto.  Always  moving  higher  and  higher, 
they  are  never  content,  but  continue  the  ascent  of  the  river 
as  far  as  possible.  They  go  on  till  they  drop,  or  become 
so  weak  and  torn  from  rubbing  against  the  rocks  and  against 
one  another,  that  they  are  pushed  into  shallows  by  the 
stronger  ones  and  die  from  want  of  water.  Out  of  the 
hosts  that  ascend  the  rivers,  it  is  generally  supposed  that  a 
very  small  proportion  indeed  ever  find  their  way  back  to 
the  sea. 

Just  below  the  Great  Salmon  Falls  the  whole  volume  of 
the  stream  rushes  through  a  channel  hardly  one  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  in  width.  At  the  falls  themselves  the  river 
is  nearly  a  mile  across,  and  pours  over  a  rocky  wall  stretch- 
ing from  shore  to  shore  and  about  twenty  feet  high.  It  is 
fascinating  in  the  extreme  to  watch  the  determined  crea- 
tures as  they  shoot  up  the  rapids  with  wonderful  agility. 
They  care  neither  for  the  seething  torrent  nor  for  the  deep 
still  pools,  and  with  a  rush — and  with  clenched  teeth,  per- 
haps— they  dart  up  like  a  silver  arrow,  and  defying  rock 
and  fall,  are  at  length  safe  in  the  smooth  haven  above. 


THE  PO 

GEORGE  G.  CHISHOLM 

THE  northern  plain  of  Italy,  whose  area  is  estimated  at 
about  16,450  square  miles,  or  about  half  that  of 
Scotland,  is  a  geographical  unit  of  the  most  unmistakable 
kind.  It  is,  indeed,  made  up  of  many  river  basins,  but 
these  are  all  of  one  character  and  without  marked  lines  of 
delimitation.  By  far  the  greater  part  of  the  area  belongs  to 
the  basin  of  the  Po,  and  the  rivers  that  do  not  belong  to 
that  basin  present  a  general  parallelism  to  the  tributaries  of 
the  Po.  The  general  slope  of  the  plain  is  that  indicated 
by  the  course  of  its  main  river,  from  west  to  east,  but 
there  is  also  a  slope  from  north  to  south,  and  another  from 
south  to  north,  determining  the  general  direction  of  at  least 
the  upper  portions  of  the  numerous  affluents  descending  from 
the  Alps  and  the  Apennines.  But  before  reaching  the  main 
stream,  these  affluents  are  affected  in  their  general  direction 
by  the  general  easterly  slope  of  the  plain ;  that  is  to  say, 
their  course  changes  more  or  less  to  south-easterly  (Dora 
Baltea,  Sesia,  Ticino,  Adda,  Oglio,  Mincio),  or  north- 
easterly (Tanaro,  Scrivia,  Trebbia,  Taro,  Secchia,  Panaro), 
and  the  farthest  east  they  are  the  larger  is  the  proportion  of 
the  entire  course  deflected  in  this  manner.  In  the  most 
easterly  portion  of  the  plain,  lying  west  of  the  Adriatic,  so 
marked  is  this  effect  that  the  rivers  (Adige,  Brenta,  Piave, 
Livenza)  are  carried  to  the  sea  before  reaching  the  Po. 
North  of  the  Adriatic  the  slope  and  the  general  direction 


236  THE  PO 

of  the  rivers  (Tagliamento,  Stella,  Cormor)  become  wholly 
southerly. 

Since  ancient  times  the  Po  has  been  recognized  as  rising 
to  the  height  of  6,400  feet  in  the  marshy  valley  of  Piano  del 
Re  at  the  foot  of  Monte  Viso,  the  ancient  Vesulus,  and 
after  a  course  of  only  twenty-one  miles  and  a  fall  of  5,250 
feet,  it  enters  the  plain  at  the  bridge  of  Revello,  where  its 
middle  course  may  be  said  to  commence.  Fed  by  the  "  aged 
snows"  of  the  <Alps,  and  by  the  heavy  rains  of  the  Alps 
and  Apennines,  it  is  already  at  Turin,  where  it  receives  from 
the  west  the  Dora  Riparia,  a  navigable  stream  with  a 
width  of  525  feet.  At  the  mouth  of  the  Ticino,  the  outlet 
of  the  Lago  Maggiore,  its  lower  course  may  be  said  to  com- 
mence. Thence  onwards  it  winds  sluggishly  across  the 
great  plains  of 

Fruitful  Lombardy, 

The  pleasant  garden  of  great  Italy, 

with  a  mean  depth  of  about  six  and  one-half  to  fifteen  and 
one-half  feet,  and  a  fall  not  exceeding  0.3 :  1,000,  so  that 
the  waters  could  hardly  move  onwards  were  it  not  for  the 
impetus  imparted  by  the  numerous  mountain  torrents  which 
it  receives  at  an  acute  angle..  At  last,  charged  thick  with 
sediment,  it  passes  onwards  through  the  mouths  that  intersect 
its  muddy  delta  into  the  Adriatic. 

In  this  part  of  its  course,  artificial  embankments  have 
been  found  necessary  to  protect  the  surrounding  country 
from  inundation,  and  from  Cremona  onwards  these  dykes, 
in  part  of  unknown  antiquity,  are  continuous.  After  re- 
ceiving the  Mincio,  the  last  tributary  on  the  north,  the  Po 
assumes  a  south-easterly  direction,  which  in  ancient  times 
and  during  the  Middle  Ages  down  to  about  1150,  it  main- 


THE  PO  237 

tained  to  its  mouths,  passing  Ferrara  on  the  south,  and  then 
dividing  into  two  main  arms,  the  Po  di  Volano  to  the  north, 
and  the  Po  di  Primaro  to  the  south  of  the  Valli  di  Comacchio. 
But  about  that  date,  it  is  said,  the  people  of  -Ficarolo  cut 
the  dyke  on  the  north  side  at  Stellata,  and  thus  gave  rise  to 
a  new  mouth,  known  first  as  the  Po  di  Venezia,  now  as  the 
Po  della  Maestra,  by  which  the  entire  volume  of  the  river 
now  runs  eastwards,  till  it  breaks  up  into  several  small 
branches  at  the  delta.  Since  then  the  arm  of  the  Po  be- 
tween Stulata  and  Ferrara  has  become  silted  up.  Since  1577 
the  Panaro  which  formerly  entered  this  arm  at  Ferrara  has 
gradually  moved  its  mouth  backwards  till  it  enters  the  main 
stream  just  below  Stellata.  The  Po  di  Volano,  which  in 
the  Second  Century  B.  c.  was  the  most  accessible  mouth 
for  shipping  and  afterwards  the  main  mouth,  has  now  be- 
come wholly  detached  from  the  Po,  and  merely  serves  as  a 
drainage  canal  for  the  surrounding  marshes,  while  the  Po  di 
Primaro  has  been  utilized  since  1770  as  the  mouth  for  the 
regulated  Remo. 

Long  before  the  historic  period,  tens  of  thousands  of 
years  ago,  but  which  geologists  call  recent,  the  great  valley 
was  an  arm  of  the  sea ;  for  beneath  the  gravels  and  alluvia 
that  form  the  soils  of  Piedmont  and  Lombardy,  sea-shells  of 
living  species  are  found  in  well-known  unconsolidated  strata 
at  no  great  depth.  At  this  period  the  lakes  of  Como,  Mag- 
giore,  and  Garda  may  have  been  fiords,  though  much  less 
deep  than  now.  Later  still,  the  Alpine  valleys  through 
which  the  affluents  of  the  Po  run  were  full  to  the  brim 
with  the  huge  old  glaciers  already  referred  to. 

When  we  consider  the  vast  size  of  the  moraines  shed 
from  the  ancient  glaciers  that  fed  the  Po,  it  is  evident  that 
at  all  times,  but  especially  during  floods,  vast  havoc  must 


238  THE  PO 

often  have  occurred  among  the  masses  of  loose  debris. 
Stones,  sand,  and  mud,  rolled  along  the  bottom  and  borne 
on  in  suspension,  must  have  been  scattered  across  the  plains 
by  the  swollen  waters. 

It  will  thus  be  easily  understood  how  the  vast  plains  that 
bound  the  Po  and  its  tributaries  were  gradually  formed  by 
the  constant  annual  increase  of  river  gravels  and  finer 
alluvia,  and  how  these  sediments  rose  in  height  by  the  over- 
flow of  the  waters,  and  steadily  encroached  upon  the  sea  by 
the  growth  of  the  delta.  The  fact  that  the  drainage  line  of 
the  plain  lies  not  in  the  middle  but  farther  from  the  Alps  than 
the  Apennines,  shows  that  in  this  process  the  loftier  range 
on  the  north  has  contributed  more  than  the  lower  one  to 
the  south.  And  this  process,  begun  thousands  of  years  be- 
fore history  began,  has  largely  altered  the  face  of  the 
country  within  historic  times,  and  is  powerfully  in  action 
at  the  present  day. 

It  has  been  estimated  by  Sir  Archibald  Geikie  that  the 
area  drained  by  the  Po  is  on  an  average  being  lowered  one 
foot  in  729  years,  and  a  corresponding  amount  of  sediment 
carried  away  by  the  river. 

It  is  hard  to  get  at  the  historical  records  of  the  river  more 
than  two  thousand  years  ago,  though  we  may  form  a  good 
guess  as  to  its  earlier  geological  history.  \Vithin  the  histor- 
ical period  extensive  lakes  and  marshes  (some  of  them  prob- 
ably old  sea  lagoons)  lay  within  its  plains,  since  gradually 
filled  with  sediment  by  periodical  floods.  The  great  lines 
of  dykes  that  have  been  erected  to  guard  against  those 
floods  have  introduced  an  element  that  modifies  this  process. 
The  result  has  been  that  the  alluvial  flats  on  either  side  ot 
the  river  outside  the  dykes  have  long  received  but  little  ad- 
dition of  surface  sediment,  and  their  level  is  nearly  station- 


THE  PO  239 

ary.  It  thus  happens  that  most  of  the  sediment  that  in  old 
times  would  have  been  spread  by  overflows  across  the 
land  is  now  hurried  along  towards  the  Adriatic,  there,  with 
the  help  of  the  Adige,  steadily  to  advance  the  far-spreading 
alluvial  flats  that  form  the  delta  of  the  two  rivers.  But  the 
confined  river,  unable  by  annual  floods  to  dispose  of  part  of 
its  sediment,  just  as  the  dykes  were  increased  in  height, 
gradually  raised  its  bottom  by  the  deposition  there  of  a  por- 
tion of  the  transported  material,  so  that  the  risk  of  occa- 
sional floods  is  again  renewed.  All  these  dangers  have 
been  increased  by  the  wanton  destruction  of  the  forests  of 
the  Alps  and  Apennines,  for  when  the  shelter  of  the  wood 
is  gone,  the  heavy  rains  of  summer  easily  wash  the  soil  from 
the  slopes  down  into  the  rivers,  and  many  an  upland  pas- 
ture has  by  this  process  been  turned  into  bare  rock.  In  this 
way  it  happens  that  during  the  historical  period  the  quantity 
of  detritus  borne  onwards  by  the  Po  has  much  increased  ; 
and  whereas  between  the  years  1200  and  1600  the  delta  ad- 
vanced on  an  average  only  about  twenty-five  yards  a  year, 
from  1600  to  1800  the  annual  advance  has  been  more  than 
seventy-five  yards.  Between  1823  and  1893  tne  deposits 
at  the  Po  di  Maestra  and  the  Po  di  Goro  advanced  on  an 
average  260  feet  yearly,  those  of  the  Po  di  Tolle  315  feet, 
and  those  of  the  Po  della  Gnocca  no  feet.  The  area  of 
the  Po  delta  has  increased  within  that  time  by  twenty  and 
one-half  square  miles,  and  that  of  the  whole  coast  from 
44°  20'  to  the  Austrian  frontier  by  29.8  square  miles. 
Besides  the  Po  and  some  of  its  chief  tributaries,  the  Adige 
is  the  only  river  in  the  northern  plain  of  Italy  of  importance 
as  a  waterway  ;  and  even  it,  though  navigable  for  vessels  of 
considerable  size,  as  high  as  Trent  in  the  Tirol,  where 
there  is  a  depth  of  from  thirteen  to  sixteen  feet,  is  navigable 


240  THE  PO 

only  with  great  difficulty  in  consequence  of  the  great 
rapidity  of  its  course.  Boats  can  descend  from  Trent  to 
Verona  (fifty  miles)  in  twenty-four  hours,  but  for  the  as- 
cent require  from  five  to  seven  days.  The  country  on  the 
banks  of  this  river  is  much  subject  to  inundations,  protec- 
tion against  which  is  afforded,  as  on  the  Po,  by  dykes, 
which  begin  about  twelve  miles  below  Verona. 


THE  MENAM 

MRS.    UNSWORTH 

THE  River  Menam  (mother  of  waters)  is  the  central 
attraction  of  all  life  and  trade ;  it  is  the  great  high- 
way for  traffic  and  the  great  cleanser  and  purifier  of  the 
cities ;  its  tide  sweeps  out  to  the  sea  all  the  dirt  and  refuse 
accumulating  therein  ;  it  is  the  universal  bath  for  all  the 
Siamese.  The  children  paddle  and  play  their  games  in  it ; 
it  is  the  scene  of  their  frolics  in  infancy,  their  means  of 
livelihood  in  manhood,  and  to  many  of  them  their  grave  in 
death.  At  sunset,  when  work  is  suspended,  there  is  a 
great  splashing  and  plunging  going  on  all  along  the  river 
banks,  everybody  taking  a  bath  or  amusing  themselves  in 
the  water.  The  river  bar  is  a  great  trouble  to  navigators.  The 
king  will  not  have  it  dredged,  as  he,  in  his  ignorance,  thinks 
it  a  natural  protection  to  his  country,  as  only  ships  of  a 
shallow  draft  can  cross.  Trading  ships  have  to  be  built 
specially  constructed  for  that  purpose.  No  large  man-of- 
war  can  cross,  but  the  king  did  not  take  into  consideration 
the  small  torpedo  boats  that  can  do  so  much  mischief;  re- 
cent events,  however,  must  have  opened  his  eyes.  We 
cannot  rush  into  Siam  at  railway  speed  ;  the  ship  must  be 
lightened  as  much  as  possible,  and  we  must  wait  until  the 
tide  is  at  its  highest — it  may  be  two  hours,  or  it  may  be 
twenty-two — and  even  then  the  channel  is  so  narrow  that 
if  we  go  a  little  to  the  right  or  to  the  left  we  run  aground. 
Many  times  there  are  two  ships  fast  aground;  once  or 


242  THE  MENAM 

twice  there  have  been  four  and  five.  Some  have  had  to 
stay  seven  and  eight  days,  and  have  every  movable  thing 
taken  out  before  they  could  rise.  Nothing  can  exceed  the 
monotony  of  lying  aground  there;  there  is  nothing  to  see, 
only  in  the  distance  some  low-lying  ground  covered  with  a 
scrub,  no  sign  of  habitations,  no  cliffs  or  green  hills  rising 
out  of  the  sea — nothing  but  water,  water  all  around,  and  a 
glimpse  of  flat  low-lying  ground  with  wild  shrubs  on  it. 

After  crossing  this  vexatious  river  bar,  we  proceed  up  the 
river  eight  miles  with  nothing  to  see  but  low  banks  until 
we  come  to  the  forts  at  Paknam.  The  river  banks  are 
very  low,  and  fringed  at  the  water's  edge  with  palms  and 
huge  tree  ferns ;  the  mango  and  tamarind  trees  hang  over 
and  the  banyan  tree,  with  its  branches  hanging  down  and 
taking  root  again,  makes  quite  an  entanglement  of  roots  and 
branches.  At  night  these  trees  are  lit  up  with  thousands  of 
fire  flies ;  on  a  dark  night  they  glisten  and  sparkle  like  the 
firmament.  But  in  the  morning  the  river  is  alive  with 
buyers  and  sellers.  We  very  soon  come  to  a  market  lying 
in  the  river — all  kinds  of  Eastern  fruits  and  vegetables  and 
crockeryware  are  piled  up  on  floating  rafts,  the  sellers  sit- 
ting cross-legged  beside  their  wares,  and  the  buyers  rushing 
about  in  small  canoes  propelled  with  one  oar. 

If  the  officers  in  charge  of  steamships  like  to  be  mischievous 
and  go  full  speed,  leaving  a  big  swell  in  their  track,  they 
have  the  fun  of  seeing  the  floating  stalls  swaying  up  and 
down,  banging  against  one  another  fruit  and  vegetables, 
rolling  off  into  the  water,  with  the  stall-holders  shouting 
and  plunging  into  the  river  to  save  their  wares  ! 

We  then  come  to  more  floating  houses  and  houses  on 
piles.  Europeans  find  the  advantage  of  living  on  the  river 
to  be  that  they  get  more  breeze  and  fewer  mosquitoes  j  so 


THE  MENAM  243 

here  and  there,  among  the  floating  mat-shed  erections,  we 
see  a  neat  painted  wooden  house  on  piles ;  it  has  to  be  ap- 
proached by  a  boat,  and  you  enter  up  a  staircase  on  to  a 
wide  verandah.  The  sitting-rooms  and  bedrooms  all  open 
out  of  this  verandah.  No  windows,  no  fireplaces  are 
needed  in  this  country — very  strange  un-home-like  resi- 
dences they  are  to  any  one  coming  fresh  from  England,  yet 
they  are  suitable  for  the  climate. 

Here  and  there  amongst  the  palm  trees,  and  under  wide- 
spreading  tamarind  trees  we  see  white-washed  temples,  with 
fantastically-shaped  gilded  roofs  j  they  look  very  pictur- 
esque amongst  the  trees ;  they  have  a  style  of  architecture 
peculiar  to  the  country,  which  is  more  prominent  in  the 
shape  of  the  roof,  which  is  a  sloping  Gothic  roof, 
with  all  the  corners  branching  out  and  turning  up;  one 
roof  is  surmounted  with  another  smaller,  and  then  a 
smaller  one  still.  These  buildings  give  quite  a  char- 
acter to  the  country  and  are  very  numerous.  It  makes 
Siamese  architecture  quite  distinctive  from  that  of  other 
countries. 

As  we  get  to  the  city  of  Bangkok,  the  sides  of  the  river 
are  lined  with  timber  and  saw-mills  and  rice-mills,  with  tall 
chimneys,  and  black  smoke  oozing  out.  This  is  European 
enterprise ;  they  quite  spoil  the  scenic  effect  on  the  river, 
but  not  any  more  than  the  mean,  dirty  bamboo  huts  that 
line  the  riversides.  The  Siamese  have  no  medium  re- 
spectability ;  it  is  all  either  gorgeously  gilded  palaces,  and 
fantastically-adorned  temples,  or  filthy-looking  huts.  A 
great  many  of  the  shopkeepers  have  their  shops  right  on 
the  river.  Some  of  them  are  neatly  arranged,  with  a  plat- 
form in  front,  on  which  you  land  from  your  boat.  All  the 
family  are  lounging  about  this  platform,  the  wife  carrying 


244  THE  MENAM 

on  her  domestic  duties,  washing  up  the  cooking  utensils  by 
dipping  them  into  the  river;  the  clothes  (what  few  they 
wear)  go  through  the  same  process;  and  the  children, 
naked,  are  sporting  about  this  narrow  platform,  or  sitting 
on  the  edge  with  their  feet  in  the  water. 

It  is  very  convenient  for  a  shopkeeper  who  wishes  to 
change  his  place  of  business ;  if  he  thinks  there  is  a  more 
desirable  and  more  frequented  spot,  he  just  unmoors  his 
floating  shop  and  has  it  towed  to  the  place  he  wants,  with- 
out disarranging  his  wares. 

Branching  off  from  the  river  are  innumerable  canals,  or 
creeks — the  Siamese  call  them  klongs — the  banks  of  which 
are  lined  with  houses  and  shops  ;  they  make  a  canal  where 
we  would  make  a  road  or  a  street.  Up  some  of  these  klongs 
there  are  pretty  views,  especially  at  sunset.  Graceful  ferns 
and  palms,  bamboo  trees,  with  their  branches  dipping  into 
the  water  and  reflected  therein,  and  between  the  branches 
the  sloping  roof  of  some  house  or  temple  is  visible.  But 
many  of  these  klongs  or  canals,  in  the  most  frequented  part 
of  the  city,  are  the  reverse  of  pretty.  They  are  just  like  a 
large  open  sewer  running  down  to  the  river,  full  of  filthy 
garbage.  When  the  tide  is  low  there  are  the  black  slime,  the 
naked  children  playing  in  it,  and  the  dirty  huts  on  rickety 
piles  leaning  forward  as  if  they  wanted  to  slide  down  into 
the  mud ;  sometimes  a  dead  body  comes  floating  down,  and 
plenty  of  dead  animals. 

It  is  very  lively  on  the  river  in  the  city.  Here  are  ocean- 
going steamers  and  sailing  vessels  moored  amid-stream,  or 
tied  up  to  the  various  wharves,  whilst  an  endless  variety  of 
native  craft  are  darting  about — narrow  boats,  like  canoes, 
propelled  with  one  oarsman,  hawking  fruit  and  betel ;  pretty 
little  house  boats,  fashioned  something  like  the  Venetian 


THE  MENAM  245 

gondolas,  with  four,  six  or  more  rowers,  standing  up, 
dressed  in  bright  uniforms,  according  to  the  rank  of  the 
family  they  belong  to;  the  rice  boats  from  far  up  the 
country,  of  very  peculiar  construction,  flat-bottomed,  to  go 
through  shallow  water,  and  wide  bulging  out  sides,  roofed 
over  like  houses.  In  the  rainy  season,  when  the  river  is 
full,  the  large  teak-wood  rafts  about  1,000  feet  long,  come 
floating  down,  with  huts  for  the  steersman  built  on  them. 
Small  steam  launches  and  ferries,  running  up  and  down 
from  various  places,  all  combine  to  make  the  river  scene 
pretty  and  interesting.  One  enthusiastic  newspaper  corre- 
spondent pronounced  Bangkok  to  be  the  Venice  of  the 
East.  It  may  resemble  Venice  in  the  amount  of  water 
traffic,  but  it  would  require  a  great  stretch  of  imagination, 
and  the  help  of  some  glorifying  and  transfiguring  tints  from 
the  setting  sun,  before  we  could  allow  the  comparison ;  but 
no  doubt  it  bears  the  same  relation  to  the  East,  where  filth 
and  squalor  predominate,  as  Venice  bears  to  the  refined  and 
cultured  Europe. 

There  are  a  few  well-kept  houses  of  business  and  private 
residences  bordering  the  river,  but  not  many,  and  these  in 
no  way  resemble  the  marble  palaces  of  European  Venice. 
The  general  aspect  of  the  river  banks  is  dirty  disorder — 
rotten  piles,  with  untidy-looking  floating  houses,  mat- 
sheds,  and  bamboo  huts,  reaching  up  to  the  King's  palace. 
The  palace  walls  enclose  many  buildings,  offices,  temples, 
private  residences,  gardens,  and  residences  for  the  sacred 
white  elephants.  The  attractive  part  of  these  buildings 
and  the  great  ornamentation  are  in  the  roofs,  which  are 
very  gorgeous.  Some  have  tall  pointed  pinnacles,  all 
gilded;  some  are  covered  with  a  fantastic  pattern  in 
porcelain,  with  little  gilded  peaks,  which  look  dazzling  in 


246  THE  MENAM 

the  sun.  Viewed  from  a  distance  these  buildings  realize 
all  that  has  been  written  in  glowing  terms  of  Eastern 
palaces,  but  near  to  the  charm  is  not  so  vivid,  as  there  is 
much  tawdriness  about  them.  Whilst  remaining  on  the 
river  the  filth  and  refuse  are  not  so  prominent ;  the  tide 
sweeps  all  away.  But  leave  the  river,  and  take  to  the 
woods.  Oh !  the  offensive  sights  and  smells  that  greet 
one's  eyes  and  nose — offal  and  waste  of  every  description 
thrown  in  front  of  the  houses  in  the  public  streets.  But 
nature  is  kind  and  very  luxurious  here ;  in  a  short  time 
these  heaps  of  rubbish  are  covered  with  a  growth  of  grass 
and  creeping  plants.  The  principal  shops  are  like  those  on 
the  river — one  large  room  open  to  the  street,  no  doors  or 
windows,  the  family  living  there,  and  the  domestic  arrange- 
ments mixed  up  with  the  business  of  selling. 

Bangkok  is  a  modern  city.  It  is  not  more  than  250 
years  old.  It  has  risen  to  importance  through  the  ever-in- 
creasing exportation  of  rice  and  timber.  It  is  not  purely 
Siamese,  being  a  mixture  of  all  Eastern  nations,  the 
Chinese  being  very  largely  represented ;  and  the  Euro- 
pean influence  is  very  prominent.  The  rice-mills 
for  cleaning  the  rice  and  the  saw-mills  are  all  fitted  up 
with  modern  machinery  and  are  the  outcome  of  European 
enterprise.  There  is  a  fine  naval  dockyard  entirely 
managed  by  English  engineers,  and  the  regular  lines  of 
steamers  running  here  constantly  are  all  British.  I  must 
just  mention  that  fifty  years  ago  the  Siamese  had  a  fine 
fleet  of  sailing  vessels,  built  in  Bangkok  of  teak-wood ;  but 
the  steamers  have  taken  away  their  trade  and  that  industry 
has  died  out.  The  ship-building  yards  are  quite  deserted 
and  silent  now. 

But  if  we  wish  to  see  a  real  Siamese  city,  we  must  leave 


THE  MENAM  £47 

Bangkok  and  go  to  Ayuthia,  the  old  capital,  before 
Bangkok  was  thought  of. 

It  is  sixty  miles  farther  up  the  river.  The  scenery  go- 
ing up  is  monotonous — no  variety  at  all;  it  is  a  flat 
country.  In  the  months  of  October  and  November  it  is 
all  under  water;  the  river  rises  and  floods  the  country  for 
miles,  so  we  can  understand  the  reason  for  living  in  floating 
houses  and  on  piles.  But  how  can  any  one  describe 
Ayuthia  ?  It  is  so  different  from  any  other  city  in  the 
world  ;  and  entirely  Siamese. 

The  inhabitants  live  principally  on  the  river  in  small 
houses  of  bamboo,  roofed  with  Atap  palm  leaves.  In 
some  parts  there  is  only  a  narrow  passage  for  a  small  boat, 
the  river  is  so  crowded  up  with  their  houses.  The  trade 
seems  to  be  buying  and  selling,  and  the  principal  things 
sold  rice  and  fruit,  with  a  few  very  simple  cooking  utensils. 
There  is  an  old  palace  here  which  illustrates  how  much 
richer  the  kings  must  have  grown  with  the  increase  of  trade. 

In  the  Siamese  court  there  are  several  very  interesting 
ceremonies,  probably  unlike  anything  belonging  to  any 
other  country,  a  pageantry  peculiar  to  Siam,  and  of  great 
magnificence. 

One  of  the  principal  of  these  is  a  royal  cremation. 
Then  there  is  a  royal  hair-cutting.  This  is  an  occasion 
for  very  great  rejoicing.  When  a  boy  attains  the  age  of 
fourteen  or  fifteen,  his  head  is  shaved,  and  then  he  enters  the 
priesthood.  When  it  is  one  of  the  royal  family,  or  the 
Crown  Prince,  then  not  many  other  courts  can  exceed  such 
a  magnificent  and  gorgeous  festival.  The  ceremony  lasts 
for  a  week — a  continued  succession  of  religious  rites,  with 
processions  and  feasts.  One  of  these  is  the  sacred  bath  in  the 
river,  where  the  priests  dip  the  young  prince. 


248  THE  MENAM 

Another  elaborate  spectacle  is  when  the  king,  attended 
by  all  his  nobles,  visits  every  great  temple.  This  takes 
some  weeks  to  accomplish,  is  an  annual  event,  and  is 
another  series  of  grand  processions.  It  is  a  water  proces- 
sion, and  the  barges  which  are  kept  and  only  used  on  this 
occasion  are  most  sumptuous.  They  are  richly  carved  and 
gilded,  with  silken  awnings.  They  are  long,  narrow  boats 
about  100  feet  long,  rowed  by  over  150  oarsmen  with 
gilded  oars.  The  whole  procession  is  a  scene  of  barbaric 
splendour,  and  recalls  the  stories  of  Aladdin  and  his 
Wonderful  Lamp. 


THE  MERRIMACK 

HENRY  D.  THOREAU 

WE  were  thus  entering  the  state  of  New  Hampshire 
on  the  bosom  of  the  flood  formed  by  the  tribute 
of  its  innumerable  valleys.  The  river  was  the  only  key 
which  could  unlock  its  maze,  presenting  its  hills  and  valleys, 
its  lakes  and  streams,  in  their  natural  order  and  position. 
The  Merritnack,  or  sturgeon  river,  is  formed  by  the  conflu- 
ence of  the  Pemigewasset,  which  rises  near  the  notch  of 
the  White  Mountains,  and  the  Winnipiseogee,  which  drains 
the  lake  of  the  same  name,  signifying  "  The  smile  of  the 
Great  Spirit."  From  their  junction  it  runs  south  seventy- 
eight  miles  to  Massachusetts,  and  thence  east  thirty-five 
miles  to  the  sea.  I  have  traced  its  stream  from  where  it 
bubbles  out  of  rocks  of  the  White  Mountains  above  the 
clouds,  to  where  it  is  lost  amid  the  salt  billows  of  the  ocean 
on  Plum  Island  Beach.  It  was  already  the  water  of  Squam 
and  Newfound  Lake  and  Winnipiseogee,  and  White  Moun- 
tain snow  dissolved,  on  which  we  were  floating,  and 
Smith's  and  Baker's  and  Mad  Rivers,  and  Nashua  and 
Souhegan  and  Piscataquong,  and  Suncook  and  Soucook  and 
Contoocook,  mingled  in  incalculable  proportions,  still  fluid, 
yellowish,  restless  all,  with  an  ancient,  ineradicable  inclina- 
tion to  the  sea. 

So  it  flows  by  Lowell  and  Haverhill,  at  which  last  place  it 
first  suffers  a  sea  change,  and  a  few  masts  betray  the  vicinity 
of  the  ocean.  Between  the  towns  of  Amesbury  and  New- 


250  THE  MERRIMACK 

bury  it  is  a  broad,  commercial  river,  from  a  third  to  half  a 
mile  in  width,  no  longer  skirted  with  yellow  and  crumbling 
banks,  but  backed  by  high  green  hills  and  pastures,  with 
frequent  white  beaches  on  which  fishermen  draw  up  their 
nets.  I  have  passed  down  this  portion  of  the  river  in  a 
steamboat,  and  it  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  watch  from  its 
deck  the  fishermen  dragging  their  seines  on  the  distant 
shore,  as  in  pictures  of  a  foreign  strand.  At  intervals  you 
may  meet  with  a  schooner  laden  with  lumber,  standing  up 
to  Haverhill,  or  else  lying  at  anchor  or  aground,  waiting 
for  wind  or  tide,  until,  at  last,  you  glide  under  the  famous 
Chain  Bridge,  and  are  landed  at  Newburyport.  From  the 
steeples  of  Newburyport  you  may  review  this  river  stretch- 
ing far  up  into  the  country,  with  many  a  white  sail  glanc- 
ing over  it  like  an  island  sea,  and  behold,  as  one  wrote  who 
was  born  on  its  head-waters,  "  Down  out  at  its  mouth,  the 
dark  inky  main  blending  with  the  blue  above,  Plum  Island, 
its  sand  ridges  scalloping  along  the  horizon  like  the  sea- 
serpent,  and  the  distant  outline  broken  by  many  a  tall  ship, 
leaning,  stilly  against  the  sky." 

Rising  at  an  equal  height  with  the  Connecticut,  the  Mer- 
rimack  reaches  the  sea  by  a  course  only  half  as  long,  and 
hence  has  no  leisure  to  form  broad  and  fertile  meadows, 
like  the  former,  but  is  hurried  along  rapids,  and  down  nu- 
merous falls,  without  long  delay.  The  banks  are  generally 
steep  and  high,  with  a  narrow  interval  reaching  back  to  the 
hills,  which  is  only  rarely  or  partially  overflown  at  present, 
and  is  much  valued  by  the  farmers.  Between  Chelmsford 
and  Concord,  in  New  Hampshire,  it  varies  from  twenty  to 
seventy-five  rods  in  many  places,  owing  to  the  trees  having 
been  cut  down,  and  the  consequent  wasting  away  of  its 
banks.  The  influence  of  the  Pawtucket  Dam  is  felt  as  far 


THE  MERRIMACK  251 

as  Cromwell's  Falls,  and  many  think  that  the  banks  are  be- 
ing abraded  and  the  river  filled  up  again  by  this  cause. 
Like  all  our  rivers,  it  is  liable  to  freshets,  and  the  Pemige- 
wasset  has  been  known  to  rise  twenty-five  feet  in  a  few 
hours.  It  is  navigable  to  vessels  of  burden  about  twenty 
miles ;  for  canal-boats,  by  means  of  locks,  as  far  as  Con- 
cord in  New  Hampshire,  about  seventy-five  miles  from  its 
mouth  ;  and  for  smaller  boats  to  Plymouth,  one  hundred 
and  thirteen  miles.  A  small  steamboat  once  plied  between 
Lowell  and  Nashua,  before  the  railroad  was  built,  and  one 
now  runs  from  Newburyport  to  Haverhill. 

Unfitted  to  some  extent  for  the  purposes  of  commerce  by 
the  sand-bar  at  its  mouth,  see  how  this  river  was  devoted  to 
the  service  of  manufactures.  Issuing  from  the  iron  regions 
of  Franconia,  and  flowing  through  still  uncut  forests,  by  in- 
exhaustible ledges  of  granite,  with  Squam,  and  Winnipis- 
eogee,  and  Newfound,  and  Massabesic  Lakes  for  its  mill- 
ponds,  it  falls  over  a  succession  of  natural  dams,  where  it 
has  been  offering  its  privileges  in  vain  for  ages,  until  at  last 
the  Yankee  race  came  to  Improve  them.  Standing  at  its 
mouth,  look  up  its  sparkling  stream  to  its  source, — a  silver 
cascade  which  falls  all  the  way  from  the  White  Mountains 
to  the  sea,— and  behold  a  city  of  each  successive  plateau,  a 
busy  colony  of  human  beavers  around  every  fall.  Not  to 
mention  Newburyport  and  Haverhill,  see  Lawrence,  and 
Lowell,  and  Nashua,  and  Manchester,  and  Concord,  gleam- 
ing one  above  the  other.  When  at  length  it  has  escaped 
from  under  the  last  of  the  factories,  it  has  a  level  and  un- 
molested passage  to  the  sea,  a  mere  waste  water,  as  it  were, 
bearing  little  with  it  but  its  fame ;  its  pleasant  course  re- 
vealed by  the  morning  fog  which  hangs  over  it,  and  the 
sails  of  the  few  small  vessels  which  transact  the  commerce 


252  THE  MERRIMACK 

of  Haverhill  and  Newburyport.  But  its  real  vessels  are 
railroad  cars,  and  its  true  and  main  stream,  flowing  by  an 
iron  channel  farther  south,  may  be  traced  by  a  long  line  of 
vapour  amid  the  hills,  which  no  morning  wind  ever  disperses 
to  where  it  empties  into  the  sea  at  Boston.  This  river  was 
at  length  discovered  by  the  white  man  "  trending  up  into 
the  land,"  he  knew  not  how  far,  possibly  an  inlet  to  the 
South  Sea.  Its  valley,  as  far  as  the  Winnipiseogee,  was 
surveyed  in  1652.  The  first  settlers  of  Massachusetts  sup- 
posed that  the  Connecticut,  in  one  part  of  its  course  ran 
north-west,  "  so  near  the  great  lake  as  the  Indians  do  pass 
their  canoes  into  it  over-land."  From  which  lake  and  the 
"  hideous  swamps  "  about  it,  as  they  supposed,  came  all  the 
beaver  that  was  traded  between  Virginia  and  Canada — and 
the  Potomac  was  thought  to  come  out  of  or  from  very  near 
it.  Afterwards  the  Connecticut  came  so  near  the  course  of 
the  Merrimack  that,  with  a  little  pains  they  expected  to  di- 
vert the  current  of  the  trade  into  the  latter  river,  and  its 
profits  from  their  Dutch  neighbours  into  their  own  pockets. 
Unlike  the  Concord,  the  Merrimack  is  not  a  dead  but  a 
living  stream,  though  it  has  less  life  within  its  waters  and 
on  its  banks.  It  has  a  swift  current,  and,  in  this  part  of  its 
course,  a  clayey  bottom,  almost  no  weeds,  and  comparatively 
few  fishes.  We  looked  down  into  its  yellow  water  with 
the  more  curiosity,  who  were  accustomed  to  the  Nile-like 
blackness  of  the  former  river.  Shad  and  alewives  are  taken 
here  in  their  season,  but  salmon,  though  at  one  time  more 
numerous  than  shad,  are  now  more  rare.  Bass,  also,  are 
taken  occasionally  ;  but  locks  and  dams  have  proved  more 
or  less  destructive  to  the  fisheries.  The  shad  make  their 
appearance  early  in  May,  at  the  same  time  with  the  blos- 
soms of  the  pyrus,  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  early  flow- 


THE  MERRIMACK  253 

ers,  which  is  for  this  reason  called  the  shad-blossom.  An 
insect  called  the  shad-fly  also  appears  at  the  same  time, 
covering  the  houses  and  fences.  We  are  told  that  "  their 
greatest  run  is  when  the  apple-trees  are  in  full  blossom. 
The  old  shad  return  in  August ;  the  young,  three  or  four 
inches  long,  in  September.  These  are  very  fond  of  flies." 
A  rather  picturesque  and  luxurious  mode  of  fishing  was 
formerly  practised  on  the  Connecticut,  at  Bellows  Falls, 
where  a  large  rock  divides  the  stream.  "On  the  steep 
sides  of  the  island  rock,"  says  Belknap,  "  hang  several  arm- 
chairs, fastened  to  ladders,  and  secured  by  a  counterpoise, 
in  which  fishermen  sit  to  catch  salmon  and  shad  with  dip- 
ping nets."  The  remains  of  Indian  weirs,  made  of  large 
stones,  are  still  to  be  seen  in  the  Winnipiseogee,  one  of  the 
head-waters  of  this  river. 

It  cannot  but  affect  our  philosophy  favourably  to  be  re- 
minded of  these  shoals  of  migratory  fishes,  of  salmon,  shad, 
alewives,  marsh-bankers,  and  others,  which  penetrate  up  the 
innumerable  rivers  of  our  coast  in  the  spring,  even  to  the 
interior  lakes,  their  scales  gleaming  in  the  sun  ;  and  again, 
of  the  fry  which  in  still  greater  numbers  wend  their  way 
downwards  to  the  sea.  "  And  is  it  not  pretty  sport,"  wrote 
Captain  John  Smith,  who  was  on  this  coast  as  early  as  1614, 
"to  pull  up  twopence,  sixpence,  and  twelvepence,  as  fast  as 
you  can  haul  and  veer  a  line  ?  " — And  what  sport  doth 
yield  a  more  pleasing  content,  and  less  hurt  or  charge,  than 
angling  with  a  hook,  and  crossing  the  sweet  air  from  isle  to 
isle,  over  the  silent  streams  of  a  calm  sea. 


THE  YEN-E-SAY 

HENRY   SEEBOHM 

WE  left  London  on  Thursday,  the  1st  of  March,  at 
8:25  P.  M.,  and  reached  Nishni  Novgorod  on 
Saturday,  the  gth  inst.,  at  10  A.  M.,  having  travelled  by  rail 
a  distance  of  2,400  miles.  We  stopped  three  days  in  St.  Pe- 
tersburg to  present  our  letters  of  introduction  and  to  pay  some 
other  visits.  At  Nishni  we  bought  a  sledge,  and  travelled 
over  the  snow  3,240  English  miles,  employing  for  this  pur- 
pose about  a  thousand  horses,  eighteen  dogs,  and  forty  rein- 
deer. We  left  Nishni  on  the  evening  of  the  loth  of  March, 
and  travelled  day  and  night  in  a  generally  easterly  direction, 
stopping  a  couple  of  days  at  Tyu-main,  and  a  day  at  Omsk, 
and  reached  Kras-no-yarsk  on  the  morning  of  the  2d  of 
April,  soon  after  crossing  the  meridian  of  Calcutta.  We 
rested  a  day  in  Kras-no-yarsk,  and  sledged  thence  nearly 
due  north,  spending  four  days  in  Yen-e-saisk  and  three 
days  in  Toor-o-kansk. 

The  Yen-e-say  is  said  to  be  the  third  largest  river  in  the 
world,  being  only  exceeded  in  size  by  the  Amazon  and  the 
Mississippi.  The  principal  stream  rises  in  the  mountains 
of  Central  Mongolia,  enters  Siberia  near  the  famous  town 
of  Kyakh-ta,  on  the  Chinese  frontier,  and  flowing  through 
Lake  By-kal,  passes  Eer-kutsk  (Irkutsk)  the  capital  of 
Siberia,  under  the  name  of  the  An-go-ra  or  Vairkh-nya, 
Tun-goosk,  and  enters  the  smaller  stream,  whose  name  it 
subsequently  bears,  a  few  miles  south  of  Yen-e-saisk.  Up 


THE  YEN-E-SAY  255 

to  this  point  its  length  may  be  roughly  estimated  at  2,000 
miles,  and  judging  from  the  time  it  takes  to  sledge  across 
the  river  at  Yen-e-saisk,  its  width  must  exceed  an  English 
mile.  Following  the  windings  of  the  river  from  the  latter 
town  to  the  Arctic  Circle,  the  road  is  calculated  as  a  journey 
of  800  miles,  during  which  the  waters  are  augmented  by 
two  important  tributaries,  the  Pod-kah-min-a-Tun-goosk 
and  the  Nizh-ni-Tun-goosk,  which  increase  the  width  of 
the  river  to  more  than  three  English  miles.  On  the  Arctic 
Circle  it  receives  an  important  tributary,  the  Koo-ray-i-ka, 
about  a  mile  wide,  and,  somewhat  more  circuitously  than 
appears  on  our  maps,  travels  to  the  islands  of  the  delta,  a 
distance  possibly  slightly  over-estimated,  during  which  the 
average  width  may  be  about  four  miles.  The  delta  and 
lagoon  of  the  Yen-e-say  are  about  400  miles  in  length,  and 
must  average  twenty  miles  in  width;  making  the  total  length 
of  the  river  about  4,000  miles. 

Throughout  the  whole  extent  of  the  river,  from  Yen-e- 
saisk,  in  latitude  58°  to  Gol-chee-ka  in  latitude  71^°,  the 
banks  are  generally  steep  and  lofty,  from  sixty  to  one  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  water-level,  and  so  far  as  I  could  learn, 
comparatively  little  land  is  covered  by  the  summer  floods. 
The  villages  on  the  banks  are  from  twenty  to  thirty  versts 
(fifteen  to  twenty  miles)  apart,  and  are  of  course  built  upon 
high  ground.  As  we  sledged  down  the  river,  we  had  al- 
ways a  heavy  climb  up  to  the  port  stations ;  and  in  descend- 
ing again  into  the  bed  of  the  river,  it  sometimes  almost  made 
our  hearts  jump  into  our  mouths  to  look  down  the  precipice, 
which  our  horses  took  at  a  gallop,  with  half-a-dozen  vil- 
lagers hanging  on  the  sledge  to  prevent  an  upset,  a  feat 
they  performed  so  cleverly,  that  although  many  a  peasant 
got  a  roll  in  the  snow,  we  always  escaped  without  any  seri- 


256  THE  YEN-E-SAY 

ous  accident.  We  found  a  good  supply  of  horses  as  far  as 
Too-ro-kansk.  The  second  stage  from  this  town  we  trav- 
elled by  dogs,  and  completed  the  rest  of  the  journey  by 
reindeer.  Soon  after  leaving  Yen-e-saisk  agriculture  prac- 
tically ceases.  A  few  cows  graze  on  the  meadows  near  the 
villages,  and  hay  is  cut  for  their  use  during  winter,  but  the 
villagers  are  too  busy  fishing  during  the  short  summer  to 
till  the  land. 

The  banks  of  the  Yen-e-say  are  clothed  with  magnificent 
forests  up  to  the  Arctic  Circle,  but  northwards  the  trees 
rapidly  diminish  in  size,  and  disappear  altogether  soon  after 
leaving  Doo-din-ka,  in  latitude  69 ^p.  These  forests  are 
principally  pine  of  various  species.  We  reached  the  Koo- 
ray-i-ka  on  the  23d  of  April,  and  found  the  crew  of  the 
Thames  in  excellent  health. 

The  winter  quarters  chosen  by  Captain  Wiggins  were 
very  picturesque.  Standing  at  the  door  of  the  peasant's 
house  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  we  looked  down  on  to  the 
"  crow's  nest "  of  the  Thames.  To  the  left  the  Koo-ray-i-ka, 
a  mile  wide,  stretched  away  some  four  or  five  miles,  until  a 
sudden  bend  concealed  it  from  view ;  whilst  to  the  right  the 
eye  wandered  across  the  snow-fields  of  the  Yen-e-say,  and 
by  the  help  of  a  binocular  the  little  village  of  Koo-ray-i-ka 
might  be  discerned  about  four  miles  off,  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  great  river.  The  land  was  undulating  rather 
than  hilly,  and  everywhere  covered  with  forest,  the  trees 
reaching  frequently  two,  and  in  some  rare  instances  three 
feet  in  diameter.  The  depth  of  the  snow  varied  from  four 
to  six  feet ;  and  travelling  without  snow-shoes,  except  on 
the  hard-trodden  roads,  was  of  course  utterly  impossible. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  ship,  we  found  that  it  was  still 
winter,  and  were  told  that  there  had  not  been  a  sign  of  rain 


THE  YEN-E-SAY  257 

since  last  autumn.  April  went  by  and  May  came  in,  but  still 
there  was  no  sign  of  summer,  except  the  arrival  of  some  of 
the  earliest  migratory  birds.  We  generally  had  a  cloudless 
sky ;  and  the  sun  was  often  burning  hot.  On  the  9th, 
loth,  and  nth  of  May  we  had  rain  for  the  first  time,  and 
the  prospects  of  summer  looked  a  little  more  hopeful.  The 
rest  of  May,  however,  was  more  dreary  and  wintry  than 
ever,  alternations  of  hard  frosts  and  driving  snow-storms ; 
but  the  river  was  slowly  rising,  and  outside  the  thick  centre 
ice  was  a  strip  of  thin,  newly-frozen  ice.  There  was,  how- 
ever, little  or  no  change  in  the  appearance  of  the  snow. 
Up  to  the  end  of  May  the  forces  of  winter  had  gallantly 
withstood  the  fiercest  attacks  of  the  sun,  baffled  at  all  points, 
and  entered  into  an  alliance  with  the  south  wind,  and  a  com- 
bined attack  was  made  upon  the  winter  forces.  The  battle 
raged  for  fourteen  days,  the  battle  of  the  Yen-e-say,  the 
great  event  of  the  year  in  this  cold  country,  and  certainly 
the  most  stupendous  display  of  the  powers  of  nature  that 
it  has  ever  been  my  lot  to  witness.  On  the  morning  of  the 
ist  of  June  the  pressure  underneath  the  ice  caused  a  large 
field,  about  a  mile  long  and  a  third  of  a  mile  wide,  opposite 
the  lower  angle  of  junction  of  the  Koo-ray-i-ka  and  the 
Yen-e-say,  to  break  away.  About  half  the  mass  found  a  pas- 
sage down  the  strip  of  newly-formed  thin  ice,  leaving  open 
water  behind  it.  The  other  half  rushed  headlong  on  to  the 
steep  banks  of  the  river.  The  result  of  the  collision  was  a 
little  range  of  mountains,  fifty  or  sixty  feet  high,  and  pic- 
turesque in  the  extreme.  Huge  blocks  of  ice,  six  feet 
thick  and  twenty  feet  long,  in  many  places,  were  standing 
perpendicular,  whilst  others  were  crushed  up  into  fragments 
like  broken  glass ;  and  in  many  other  places  the  ice  was 
piled  up  in  layers  one  over  the  other.  The  real  ice  on  the 


258  THE  YEN-E-SAY 

river  did  not  appear  to  have  been  thicker  than  two  or  three 
feet,  clear  as  a  glass,  and  blue  as  an  Italian  sky.  Upon 
the  top  of  this  was  about  four  feet  of  white  ice.  This  was 
as  hard  as  a  rock,  and  had,  no  doubt,  been  caused  by  the 
flooding  of  the  snow  when  the  waters  of  the  river  had  risen, 
and  its  subsequent  freezing.  Upon  the  top  of  the  white 
ice  was  eighteen  inches  of  clean  snow,  which  had  evidently 
never  been  flooded.  When  we  turned  into  our  berths  in 
the  evening  the  captain  thought  it  best  to  institute  an 
anchor-watch.  We  had  scarcely  been  asleep  an  hour  be- 
fore the  watch  called  us  up  with  the  intelligence  that  the 
river  was  rising  rapidly,  and  that  the  ice  was  beginning  to 
crack.  We  immediately  dressed  and  went  on  deck.  We 
saw  at  once  that  the  Yen-e-say  was  rising  so  rapidly  that 
it  was  beginning  to  flow  up  its  tributaries.  A  strong  cur- 
rent was  setting  up  the  Koo-ray-i-ka,  and  small  floes  were 
detaching  themselves  from  the  main  body  of  the  ice  and 
were  running  up  the  open  water.  By  and  by  the  whole 
body  of  the  Koo-ray-i-ka  broke  up  and  began  to  move  up 
stream.  Some  of  the  floes  struck  the  ship  some  very  ugly 
blows  on  the  stern,  doing  considerable  damage  to  the  rud- 
der; but  open  water  was  beyond,  and  we  were  soon  out  of 
the  press  of  ice,  with,  we  hoped,  no  irretrievable  injury. 
All  this  time  we  had  been  getting  steam  up  as  fast  as 
possible,  to  be  ready  for  any  emergency.  It  was  hopeless 
to  attempt  to  enter  the  creek  opposite  which  we  were 
moored,  and  which  was  now  only  just  beginning  to  fill 
with  water ;  but  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  across  only 
a  mile  of  open  water,  was  a  haven  of  perfect  safety.  But, 
alas !  when  the  ice  had  passed  us,  before  we  could  get  up 
sufficient  steam,  the  river  suddenly  fell  three  feet,  and  left 
aground  by  the  stern,  and  immovable  as  a  rock.  Nor  was 


THE  YEN-E-SAY  259 

it  possible,  with  a  swift  current  running  up  the  river  at  the 
rate  of  four  knots  an  hour,  to  swing  the  ship  round  so  as  to 
secure  the  rudder  against  any  further  attacks  of  the  ice. 
Half  a  mile  ahead  of  us,  as  we  looked  down  the  river,  was 
the  edge  of  the  Yen-e-say  ice.  The  river  was  rising  again  ; 
but  before  the  stern  was  afloat  we  discovered,  to  our  dis- 
may, that  another  large  field  of  ice  had  broken  up  ;  and  the 
Koo-ray-i-ka  was  soon  full  of  ice  again.  In  the  course  of 
uie  night  the  whole  of  the  ice  of  Yen-e-say,  as  far  as  we 
could  see,  broke  up  with  a  tremendous  crash,  and  a  dense 
mass  of  ice-floes,  pack-ice,  and  icebergs  backed  up  the 
Koo-ray-i-ka,  and  with  irresistible  force  drove  the  Koo- 
ray-i-ka  ice  before  it.  When  it  reached  the  ship,  we 
had  but  one  alternative,  to  slip  the  anchor  and  let  her 
drive  with  the  ice.  For  about  a  mile  we  had  an  exciting 
ride,  pitching  and  rolling  as  the  floes  of  ice  squeezed  the 
ship,  and  tried  to  lift  her  bodily  out  of  the  water,  or  crawl 
up  her  sides  like  a  snake.  The  rudder  was  soon  broken  to 
pieces,  and  finally  carried  away.  Some  of  the  sailors 
jumped  on  to  the  ice  and  scrambled  ashore,  whilst  others 
began  to  throw  overboard  their  goods  and  chattels.  Away 
we  went  up  the  Koo-ray-i-ka,  the  ice  rolling  and  tumbling 
and  squeezing  along  side,  huge  lumps  climbing  one  on  the 
top  of  another,  until  we  were  finally  jammed  in  a  slight 
bay,  along  with  a  lot  of  pack-ice.  Early  in  the  morning 
the  stream  slackened,  the  river  fell  some  five  or  six  feet, 
and  the  ice  stood  still.  The  ship  went  through  the  terrible 
ordeal  bravely.  She  made  no  water,  and  there  was  no  evi- 
dence of  injury  beyond  the  loss  of  the  rudder.  In  the 
evening  the  ship  was  lying  amidst  huge  hummocks  of  ice, 
almost  high  and  dry.  The  Koo-ray-i-ka,  and  right  across 
the  Yen-e-say,  and  southwards  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach 


260  THE  YEN-E-SAY 

was  one  immense  field  of  pack-ice,  white,  black,  brown, 
blue,  green,  piled  in  wild  confusion  as  close  as  it  could  be 
jammed.  Northwards  the  Yen-e-say  was  not  yet  broken 
up.  All  this  time  the  weather  was  warm  and  foggy,  with 
very  little  wind,  and  occasional,  slight  rain.  There  was  a 
perfect  Babel  of  birds  as  an  accompaniment  to  the  crashing 
of  the  ice.  Gulls,  geese,  and  swans  were  flying  about  in 
all  directions ;  and  their  wild  cries  vied  with  the  still  wilder 
screams  of  the  divers.  Flocks  of  red  polls  and  shore  larks, 
and  bramblings  and  wagtails  in  pairs,  arrived,  and  added  to 
the  interest  of  the  scene.  On  the  2d  of  June  there  was 
little  or  no  movement  in  the  ice  until  midnight,  when  an 
enormous  pressure  from  above  came  on  somewhat  suddenly, 
and  broke  up  the  great  field  of  ice  to  the  north  of  the  Koo- 
ray-i-ka,  but  not  to  a  sufficient  extent  to  relieve  the  whole 
of  the  pressure.  The  water  in  the  Koo-ray-i-ka  rose 
rapidly.  The  immense  field  of  pack-ice  began  to  move  up 
stream  at  the  rate  of  five  or  six  knots  an  hour.  The  poor 
ship  was  knocked  and  bumped  along  the  rocky  shore,  and 
a  stream  of  water  began  to  flow  into  the  hold.  At  nine 
o'clock  all  hands  left  her,  and  stood  upon  the  snow  on  the 
bank,  expecting  her  instant  destruction.  The  stream  rose 
and  fell  during  the  day ;  but  the  leak,  which  was  appar- 
ently caused  by  the  twisting  of  the  stern-post,  choked  up. 
Late  in  the  evening  an  opportunity  occurred  of  a  few 
hours'  open  water,  during  which  steam  was  got  up ;  and  by 
the  help  of  a  couple  of  ropes  ashore,  the  rudderless  ship 
was  steered  into  the  little  creek  opposite  to  which  she 
had  wintered,  and  run  ashore.  Here  the  leak  was  after- 
wards repaired  and  a  new  rudder  made.  We  calculated 
that  about  50,000  acres  of  ice  passed  the  ship  up  stream 
during  these  two  days;  and  we  afterwards  learned  that 


THE  YEN-E-SAY  261 

most  of  this  ice  got  away  some  miles  up  the  Koo-ray-i-ka, 
where  the  banks  are  low,  and  was  lost  in  the  forest. 

The  battle  of  the  Yen-e-say  raged  for  about  a  fortnight. 
The  sun  was  generally  burning  hot  in  the  daytime ;  but 
every  night  there  was  more  or  less  frost.  The  ice  came 
down  the  Yen-e-say  at  various  spuds.  Sometimes  we 
could  see  gigantic  masses  of  pack-ice,  estimated  at  twenty  to 
thirty  feet  in  height,  driven  down  the  river  at  an  incredible 
pace,  not  less  than  twenty  miles  an  hour.  In  the  Koo-ray- 
i-ka  the  scene  was  constantly  changing.  The  river  rose  and 
fell.  Sometimes  the  pack-ice  and  floes  were  jammed  so  tight 
together  that  it  looked  as  if  one  might  scramble  across  the 
river  without  difficulty.  At  other  times  there  was  a  good  deal 
of  open  water,  and  the  icebergs  "  calved  "  as  they  went  along 
with  much  commotion  and  splashing,  that  could  be  heard 
half  a  mile  off.  Underlayers  of  the  iceberg  ground ;  and 
after  the  velocity  of  the  enormous  mass  has  caused  it  to  pass 
on,  the  pieces  left  behind  rise  to  the  surface,  like  a  whale 
coming  up  to  breathe.  Some  of  these  "  calves  "  must  come 
up  from  a  considerable  depth.  They  rise  up  out  of  the 
water  with  a  great  splash,  and  rock  about  for  some  time  be- 
fore they  settle  down  to  their  floating  level.  At  last  the 
final  march  past  of  the  beaten  winter-forces  in  this  great 
fourteen  days'  battle  took  place  and  for  seven  days  more 
the  rag,  tag,  and  bob-tail  of  the  great  Arctic  army  come 
straggling  down — warm  and  weather-beaten  little  icebergs, 
dirty  ice-floes  that  looked  like  mud-banks  floating  down, 
and  straggling  pack-ice  in  the  last  stages  of  consumption. 
The  total  rise  of  the  river  was  upwards  of  seventy  feet. 

The  moment  that  the  snow  disappeared  vegetation  sprang 
up  as  if  by  magic,  and  the  birds  made  preparations  for 
breeding.  As  we  passed  through  Yen-e-saisk  I  bought  a 


262  THE  YEN-E-SAY 

schooner  of  a  ship-builder  of  the  name  of  Boiling,  a  Heli- 
golander.  I  christened  it  the  Ibis;  and  on  the  2Qth  of 
June  we  left  the  Koo-ray-i-ka  with  this  little  craft  in  tow. 
Our  progress  down  the  river,  however,  was  one  catalogue 
of  disasters,  ending  in  our  leaving  the  Thames  on  the  Qth 
of  July  a  hopeless  wreck,  lying  high  and  dry  on  a  sand- 
bank, in  latitude  67°.  As  we  sailed  northwards  in  the 
Ibis,  the  forests  became  smaller  and  smaller,  and  disappeared 
altogether  about  latitude  70°.  The  highest  point  we 
reached  was  latitude  71^°,  where  I  sold  the  Ibis  to  the  cap- 
tain of  a  Russian  schooner,  which  had  been  totally  wrecked 
during  the  break-up  of  the  ice. 

On  the  23rd  of  July  I  left  Gol-chee-ka  in  the  last  Rus- 
sian steamer  up  the  river;  and  reached  Yen-e-saisk  on  the 
I4th  of  August.  After  a  few  days'  delay  I  drove  across 
country  to  Tomsk,  stopping  a  day  or  two  in  Kras-no-yarsk. 
In  Tomsk  I  found  an  excellent  iron  steamer,  in  which  I 
sailed  down  the  river  Tom  into  the  Obb,  down  which  we 
steamed  to  its  junction  with  the  Eer-tish,  up  which  we  pro- 
ceeded until  we  entered  the  Tob-ol,  and  afterwards  steamed 
up  the  Too-ra  to  Tyu-main,  a  distance  by  water  of  2,200 
miles.  From  the  Tyu-main  I  drove  through  Ekatereenburg 
across  the  Urals  to  Perm,  where  I  took  my  passage  on 
board  the  Sam-o-lot,  or  self-flyer,  down  the  Kama,  and  up 
the  Volga,  to  Nishni  Novgorod. 


THE  YARROW 

JOHN   MACWHIRTER 

YARROW  and  its  vale  form  one  of  the  high  places  of 
the  earth.     In  this  age  of  cheap  trips  it  is  easy  to 
get  there,  and  perhaps  you  don't  think  much  of  it  as  you 
rattle  through  on  the  coach.     There  is  many  a  Highland 
scene  incomparably  grander.     After  all 

"  What's  Yarrow,  but  a  river  bare, 
That  glides  the  dark  hills  under  ? 
There  are  a  thousand  such  elsewhere, 
As  worthy  of  your  wonder." 

A  word  of  dry  description  must  commence.  The  Yarrow 
Water  is  in  Yarrow  and  Selkirk  parishes  of  the  country  of 
Selkirk.  It  rises  in  St.  Mary's  Loch,  it  courses  therefrom 
to  its  junction  with  Ettrick  Water  fourteen  and  a  half  miles, 
when  the  latter  gives  its  name  to  the  united  currents. 
They  are  soon  lost  in  the  Tweed.  Beyond  St.  Mary's 
Loch,  and  separated  from  it  by  a  narrow  strip  of  land,  is  the 
Loch  o'  the  Lowes  (or  Lochs).  It  is  about  two  miles  in 
length,  and  is  fed  by  the  Yarrow,  which  rises  some  two 
miles  higher  up,  though  it  is  usually  taken  as  beginning  in 
the  large  lake.  In  the  lower  reach  the  banks  are  wooded ; 
farther  up  the  hills  are  bare,  soft,  rounded,  the  stream  is 
clear  and  swift-flowing,  with  a  musical  note  on  its  large  and 
small  stones  ;  there  is  no  growth  of  sedge  or  underwood, 
but  the  fresh  green  grass  stretches  up  the  slope  till  it  is  lost 
in  the  heather.  Between  the  hills  are  glens  down  which 
wind  greater  or  smaller  tributaries  to  the  Yarrow.  Each 


264  THE  YARROW 

has  its  legend  and  its  ruin.  Dim,  romantic,  enticing,  these 
glens  stretch  away  into  the  mysterious  mountain  solitude. 
You  begin  your  excursion  from  Selkirk,  which  is  on  Ettrick 
Water,  ten  miles  down  stream  from  its  junction  with  the 
Yarrow,  and  two  places  soon  take  your  attention,  Carter- 
haugh and  Philiphaugh.  There  is  a  farm  "  toun,"  as  they 
name  a  steading  in  the  north,  that  is  called  Carterhaugh ; 
but  what  is  meant  here  is  a  charming  piece  of  greensward 
and  wood,  that  lies  almost  encircled  by  the  two  streams  at 
and  near  their  meeting  place.  A  very  Faeryland  !  and  here 
is  laid  the  scene  of  the  faery  ballad  of  "  The  Young  Tarn- 
lane."  The  song  is  very  old;  it  was  well  known  in  1549, 
as  we  learn  from  a  chance  mention  in  a  work  of  the  period. 
It  is  a  delicious  poem,  pure  phantasy  ;  a  very  Mid-summer 
Night's  Dream,  scarcely  of  the  earth  at  all,  far  less  dealing 
with  historical  incident.  The  forgotten  poet,  lest  he  should 
be  all  in  the  air,  makes  the  young  Tamlane  son  to  Ran- 
dolph, Earl  Murray,  and  Fair  Janet,  daughter  to  Dunbar, 
Earl  March,  but  this  is  only  because  these  were  the  noblest 
names  in  Scotland,  and  he  chooses  Carterhaugh  for  his 
stage ;  as  like  as  not  he  lived  somewhere  on  the  Yarrow, 
and  the  stream  sang  in  his  ears  as  he  built  the  song.  Tam- 
lane is  nine  when  his  uncle  sends  for  him  "  to  hunt  and 
hawk  and  ride,"  and  on  the  way  — 

"  There  came  a  wind  out  o'  the  north, 
A  sharp  wind  and  a  snell, 
And  a  dead  sleep  came  over  me, 
And  frae  my  horse  I  fell. 
The  Queen  of  the  Fairies  she  was  there, 
And  took  me  to  herself." 

On  the  left  bank  of  the  Yarrow,  just  across  from  Carter- 


THE  YARROW  265 

haugh,  is  Philiphaugh.  It  is  a  large  space  of  level  ground, 
and  here  the  fortunes  of  the  great  Montrose  and  his  High- 
land army  came  to  hopeless  smash  in  the  early  morning  of 
13th  September,  1645.  Montrose  had  won  six  victories  in 
the  Highlands,  had  been  appointed  Viceroy  of  Scotland, 
and  full  of  ill-placed  confidence  was  preparing  an  invasion 
of  England.  He  spent  the  previous  evening  at  ease  in  Sel- 
kirk (they  still  show  you  the  house)  and  was  writing  de- 
spatches to  the  king,  when  he  heard  the  sound  of  firing. 
He  galloped  to  the  field  and  found  everything  practically 
over !  David  Leslie  had  been  seeking  him  far  and  near  for 
some  time,  had  found  the  camp  and  invaded  it  in  a  mist. 
The  Royalists  were  scattered  ;  Montrose — no  one  ever 
counted  cowardice  among  his  vices — made  a  desperate  effort 
to  retrieve  the  fortune  of  the  day,  but  all  in  vain.  Finally 
he  dashed  through  the  opposing  forces,  galloped  away  up 
the  Yarrow,  then  by  a  wild  mountain  path,  right  over 
Minchmoor,  and  drew  not  bridle  till  he  dashed  up  to  Tra- 
quair  House,  sixteen  miles  from  the  battle-field.  A  num- 
ber of  prisoners  were  taken.  The  common  lowland  Scot 
has  still  a  certain  contempt  for  the  Highlander,  whose  ap- 
preciation in  the  modern  world  is  due  to  literature ;  then  he 
looked  upon  him  as  an  outcast  and  outlaw,  "a  broken 
man,"  in  the  expressive  phrase  of  an  earlier  day.  The 
captives  were  shot  in  the  court-yard  of  Newark  Castle,  and 
buried  in  a  field  still  called  Slain-mans-lee.  Celtic  troops 
are  very  brave,  but  unless  mixed  with  the  steadier  Saxon, 
they  don't  seem  reliable. 

Still  keeping  on  the  left  bank,  follow  the  road  by  the 
riverside  and  as  before  you  come  to  two  places,  each  with 
an  interest  very  different  from  the  others.  One  is  a  ruined 
house,  a  poor  enough  building  at  the  best.  An  inscription 


266  THE  YARROW 

tells  you  that  Mungo  Park  (1771-1805)  the  African  travel- 
ler, was  born  and  lived  here.  He  saw  Scott  a  little  before 
his  last  voyage,  told  how  he  dreaded  leave-taking  (he  had 
been  recently  married  ! )  and  that  he  meant  to  leave  for 
Edinburgh  on  some  pretence  or  other  and  make  his  adieux 
from  there.  On  Williamhope  ridge  the  two  parted. 

"  I  stood  and  looked  back,  but  he  did  not,"  says  Scott. 
He  had  put  his  hand  to  the  plough.  Poor  Mungo  Park  ! 
his  discoveries  seem  little  now-a-days,  yet  to  me,  he  is 
always  the  most  attractive  of  African  travellers,  his  life 
the  most  interesting,  his  end  the  most  melancholy.  One 
thinks  how  under  the  hot  sun  in  those  fearful  swamps 
he  must  have  often  remembered  the  cool  delicious  green 
braes  of  his  native  Yarrow.  But  we  turn  our  eyes  to  the 
opposite  bank  and  scarce  need  be  told  that  the  castle  we 
see,  majestic,  though  in  ruins,  is  "  Newark's  stately  tower." 
'Tis  a  great  weather-beaten  square  keep,  where  Anna,  relict 
of  the  ill-fated  Duke  of  Monmouth,  lived  for  some  years  of 
her  widowed  life.  To  her  Scott's  "  Last  Minstrel  "  sings  his 
lay.  But  the  place  was  already  centuries  old.  It  was  once 
a  hunting-seat  of  the  Scots  kings,  when  the  whole  region 
was  the  densely  wooded  Ettrick  Forest,  and  here  there  was 
great  sport  with  the  wolf,  the  mountain  bear,  the  wild-cat, 
and  all  sorts  of  other  small  and  large  deer.  Some  place- 
names  still  save  the  old  memories,  Oxcleugh,  Durhame, 
Hartleap,  Hindshope,  and  so  forth. 

After  Yarrow  hamlet  the  land  is  more  desolate,  the 
stream  shrinks  to  a  mountain  burn,  there  are  no  more 
clumps  of  trees,  and  the  hills  creep  in  near  the  water's 
edge,  and  they  are  taller  and  steeper.  You  pass  lofty 
Mount  Benger,  near  where  Hogg,  the  Ettrick  Shepherd, 
who  loved  and  sang  of  those  sweet  vales,  had  a  farm. 


THE  YARROW  267 

Farther  on  the  right  bank  is  Altrive,  where  he  afterwards 
lived,  and  where  he  died.  Almost  opposite,  the  Douglas 
Burn  flows  through  a  gloomy  and  solitary  glen  to  Yarrow. 
Follow  this  burn  and  you  come  to  the  ruins  of  Blackhouse 
Tower.  It  was  from  here  that  Lord  William  and  Lady 
Margaret  fled  at  midnight  from  Lord  Douglas  and  his 
seven  sons.  These  were  slain  one  by  one,  but  it  was  only 
when  her  lover  began  to  press  roughly  on  her  father  that 
the  lady  interposed. 

"  Oh  hold  your  hand,  Lord  William,  she  said, 
For  your  strokes  they  are  wondrous  sair. 
True  lovers  I  can  get  many  a  one, 
But  a  father  I  can  never  get  mair." 

An  obvious  if  belated  reflection  !  'Twas  of  no  avail,  the 
father  is  left  dead  and  dying,  and  the  lady  follows  her 
knight  ("  For  ye've  left  me  nae  other  guide,"  she  says 
somewhat  bitterly).  They  light  down  at  "  yon  wan 
water"  and  his  "gude  heart's  bluid "  dyes  the  stream, 
though  he  swears  "  'Tis  naething  but  the  shadow  of  my 
scarlet  cloak."  However,  the  lovers  die  that  very  night 
and  are  buried  in  St.  Marie's  Kirke,  and  "  a  bonny  red  rose  " 
and  a  briar  grew  out  of  the  grave  and  twined  together  to 
the  admiration  of  all  who  saw,  but  to  the  great  wrath  of 
Black  Douglas,  who,  a  sworn  foe  to  sentimentality, 

"  Pull'd  up  the  bonny  briar 
And  flang'd  in  St.  Marie's  Loch." 

The  wild  path  followed  by  the  lovers  over  the  hillside  is 
still  to  be  traced,  the  place  of  the  combat  is  marked  by 
seven  stones  ;  but  again  these  are  of  an  earlier  date,  and 
again  it  would  be  useless  to  criticise  the  creation  of  the 
fancy  too  curiously. 


268  THE  YARROW 

And  now  we  are  at  St.  Mary's  Loch,  a  beautiful  sheet  of 
water  three  miles  long  and  half  a  mile  broad.  At  the  head 
of  the  loch  is  a  monument  to  the  Ettrick  Shepherd.  Near 
the  monument  is  St.  Mary's  Cottage,  better  known  as 
"  Tibbie  Shiel's,"  and  scene  of  many  a  gay  carouse  of 
Christopher  North  and  his  merry  men,  as  you  know  very 
well  if  you  have  read  the  Nodes  Ambrosianoe.  The  cottage 
is  still  kept  by  a  relative  of  the  original  Tibbie,  as  a 
humble  sort  of  an  inn.  If  you  are  wise  you  will  prefer  it 
to  the  large  new  Rodona  hotel  not  far  off.  It  has  a  touch 
of  the  old  times  with  its  huge  fireplace  and  box  beds.  It 
is  something  to  hear  the  local  anecdote,  how  one  morning 
"  after  "  Christopher  or  the  shepherd,  being  more  than  ever 
consumed  with  the  pangs  of  thirst,  in  a  burst  of  wild 
desire,  cried  "  Tibbie,  bring  ben  the  Loch."  It  is  said 
that  Scott  was  never  farther  than  the  door.  Scott,  Hogg, 
Wilson  were,  we  all  know,  great  writers,  though  to-day 
Wilson  is  but  little  read,  Hogg  popular  through  one  or  two 
lyrics,  whilst  Scott  is  more  and  more  known  with  the  years. 
But  each  of  the  three  had  an  impressive  and  attractive 
personality — he  is  more  than  a  writer,  he  is  first  of  all 
a  man.  Superior  in  interest  to  monument  and  cottage  is  St. 
Mary's  Kirk,  which  stands  on  a  height  on  the  left  bank  of 
the  loch.  One  should  say  stood,  for  nothing  of  it  is  left. 
Here  generations  of  martyrs  and  freebooters  were  carried, 
and  the  heroes  and  heroines  of  so  many  of  the  tales  and 
ballads  were  laid  to  rest,  but  — 

"  St.  Mary's  Loch  lies  slumbering  still, 
But  St.  Mary's  Kirk-bells  lang  dune  ringing, 
There's  naething  now  but  the  grave-stone  hill, 
To  tell  o'  a'  their  loud  Psalm-singing." 


THE  YARROW  269 

They  still  bury  there,  though  at  rare  and  distant  intervals. 
Hard  by  is  Dryhope  Tower.  Here  was  born  Mary 
Scott,  the  "  Flower  of  Yarrow."  The  romance  of  the 
name  caused  this  heroine  to  be  incessantly  be-rhymed 
through  all  the  subsequent  centuries,  but  we  don't  know 
much  about  her.  She  was  married  to  Walter  Scott  of 
Harden,  a  gentleman  widely  and  justly  renowned  for  his 
skill  in  "  lifting  "  other  people's  cattle.  As  a  portion  the 
bride's  father  agreed  to  "  find  his  son-in-law  in  man's  meat 
and  horse's  meat  for  a  year  and  a  day,  five  barons  becoming 
bound  that,  on  the  expiry  of  that  period,  Harden  should 
retire  without  compulsion."  Not  one  of  the  parties  to  the 
contract  could  write.  A  daughter  of  the  "  Flower  of 
Yarrow  "  was  married  to  another  freebooter  called  "  Gilly 
wi'  the  gouden  garters."  The  bride  was  to  remain  at  her 
father's  house  for  a  year  and  a  day,  and  in  return  Gilly 
contracted  to  hand  over  the  plunder  of  the  first  harvest 
moon.  By  the  way,  there  is  rather  a  pretty  though  quite 
untrustworthy  tradition  of  the  origin  of  the  ballads  con- 
nected with  the  name  of  Mary  Scott.  In  the  spoils 
brought  home  by  her  husband  from  one  of  his  forays,  was 
a  child.  Him  she  took  and  reared.  Of  gentle  nature,  he 
delighted  to  hear  of  and  celebrate  in  songs  the  tragedies  and 
romances  acted  or  repeated  around  him ;  and  so  he, 
"  nameless  as  the  race  from  whence  he  sprung,  saved  other 
names  and  left  his  own  unsung."  The  Meggat  Water  is 
one  of  the  many  streams  that  fill  the  loch.  On  one  of  its 
tributaries  called  Henderland-burn  is  a  ruined  tower,  and 
near  it  a  large  stone  broken  into  three  parts,  on  which  you 
may  still  make  out  the  inscription,  "  Here  lyes  Perys  of 
Cockburne  and  his  wyfe  Marjory."  Cockburne  was  in  his 
day  a  noted  freebooter,  and  secure  in  his  tower  defied  all 


270  THE  YARROW 

attempts  to  bring  him  to  justice.  But  James  V.  in  his 
famous  progress  through  the  Border-land,  heard  of  his  pro- 
ceedings, and  came  right  over  the  hills  and  down  upon 
Henderland,  whose  proprietor  he  found  eating  his  dinner. 
It  was  his  last  meal ;  he  was  at  once  seized  and  strung  up 
before  his  own  door.  His  wife  fled  and  concealed  herself 
in  a  place  called  the  Lady's  seat,  and  when  she  recovered  the 
silence  of  the  glen  told  her  that  the  invaders  had  departed, 
and  she  returned  and  buried  her  husband.  One  of  the  most 
pathetic  of  the  old  ballads  is  said  to  be  her  lament 

"  But  think  na'  ye  my  heart  was  sair, 
When  I  laid  the  moul'  on  his  yellow  hair ; 
O  think  na'  ye  my  heart  was  wae, 
When  I  turned  about,  awa'  to  gae." 

By  the  way,  gold  was  found  in  the  glen  here  j  probably  a 
little  might  be  extracted  to-day ;  but  then  it  wouldn't  pay 
for  the  washing.  Quite  a  different  set  of  traditions  deals 
with  the  Covenanting  period.  Far  up  in  the  solitary  side 
glens  were  favourite  meeting-places ;  here  the  saints  came 
from  far  and  near  with  Bible,  and  sword  and  gun,  ready  to 
offer  up  their  lives  if  need  may  be,  but  quite  determined  to 
sell  them  as  dearly  as  possible.  Alas  !  the  minstrels  were 
not  on  their  side,  and  no  contemporary  ballads  tell  the  story 
of  the  dangers  and  deaths,  though  those  were  dramatic 
enough.  In  later  times  Hogg  and  Wilson  did  something  to 
weave  them  into  song  and  story.  It  was  near  the  loch  of 
the  Lowes  that  Ren  wick  preached  his  last  sermon. 
"  When  he  prayed  that  day  few  of  his  hearers'  cheeks  were 
dry."  On  the  lyth  February,  1688,  "  he  glorified  God  in 
the  grass-market,"  as  the  old  phrase  ran. 

And  now  one  can  understand  how  Yarrow  came   to  its 


THE  YARROW  27 1 

fame.  Quieter,  sweeter,  softer  than  other  vales,  its  green 
braes,  its  delicious  streams  attracted  the  old  singers  who 
preserved  the  memories  of  others'  deeds.  But  why  is 
this  music  sad  ?  Well,  most  border  ballads  are  little 
tragedies,  the  strongest  emotions  are  the  saddest,  and  such 
the  singers  preferred.  And  then  one  or  two  ballads  gave  a 
decided  tone  to  the  others.  The  "  Dowie  Dens,"  in  fact, 
strikes  the  key-note  of  them  all.  William  Hamilton,  of 
Bangour,  and  John  Logan  have  both  told  a  story  of  love 
and  death  in  excellent  fashion  in  their  poems  on  "  The 
Braes  of  Yarrow."  As  for  the  rest,  Scott  is  chiefly  de- 
scriptive j  Wordsworth,  in  spite  of  an  occasional  line  or 
even  verse  of  high  excellence,  is  on  the  whole  very  poor; 
and  Alan  Ramsay  is  exceedingly  bad. 


THE  MISSISSIPPI 

ALEXANDER  D.  ANDERSON 

IN  the  early  days  of  European  discoveries  and  rivalries  in 
the  Mississippi  Valley  its  comprehensive  river  system 
played  a  prominent  part  on  the  stage  of  public  affairs.  The 
discovery  of  the  river,  in  1541,  by  De  Soto  and  his  Spanish 
troops,  was  about  a  century  later  followed  by  explorations 
by  the  French  under  the  lead  of  Marquette,  Joliet,  La  Salle 
and  others,  who  entered  the  valley  from  the  north.  La 
Salle,  during  the  years  1679-83,  explored  the  river  through- 
out its  whole  length,  took  possession  of  the  great  valley  in 
the  name  of  France,  and  called  it  Louisiana  in  honour  of 
his  King,  Louis  XIV.  Then  resulted  grand  schemes  for 
developing  the  resources  of  the  valley,  which  a  French 
writer  characterized  as  "  the  regions  watered  by  the  Missis- 
sippi, immense  unknown  virgin  solitudes  which  the  imag- 
ination filled  with  riches."  One  Crozat,  in  1712,  secured 
from  the  King  a  charter  giving  him  almost  imperial  control 
of  the  commerce  of  the  whole  Mississippi  Valley.  There 
was  at  that  date  no  European  rival  to  dispute  French  dom- 
ination, for  the  English  of  New  England  and  the  other  At- 
lantic colonies  had  not  extended  their  settlements  westward 
across  the  Alleghanies,  and  the  Spanish  inhabitants  of  New 
Spain  or  Mexico  had  not  pushed  their  conquest  farther 
north  than  New  Mexico.  Crozat's  trading  privileges 
covered  an  area  many  times  as  large  as  all  France,  and  as 
fertile  as  any  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  But  he  was  equal 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  273 

to  the  opportunity,  and,  failing  in  his  efforts,  soon  sur- 
rendered the  charter. 

John  Law,  a  Scotchman,  at  first  a  gambler,  and  subse- 
quently a  bold,  visionary,  but  brilliant  financier,  succeeded 
Crozat  in  the  privileges  of  this  grand  scheme,  and  secured 
from  the  successor  of  Louis  XIV.  a  monoply  of  the  trade 
and  development  of  the  French  possessions  in  the  valley. 
In  order  to  carry  out  his  wild  enterprise  he  organized  a 
colossal  stock  company,  called  "  The  Western  Company," 
but  more  generally  known  in  history  as  the  "  Mississippi 
Bubble."  According  to  the  historian  Monette  "  it  was 
vested  with  the  exclusive  privilege  of  the  entire  commerce 
of  Louisiana  and  New  France,  and  with  authority  to  en- 
force its  rights.  It  was  authorized  to  monopolize  the  trade 
of  all  the  colonies  in  the  provinces,  and  of  all  the  Indian 
tribes  within  the  limits  of  that  extensive  region,  even  to  the 
remotest  source  of  every  stream  tributary  in  anywise  to  the 
Mississippi."  So  skilful  and  daring  were  his  manipulations 
that  he  bewitched  the  French  people  with  the  fascinations 
of  stock  gambling.  The  excitement  in  Paris  is  thus  de- 
scribed by  Thiers : 

"  It  was  no  longer  the  professional  speculators  and  cred- 
itors of  the  Government  who  frequented  the  rue  Quincam- 
poix ;  all  classes  of  society  mingled  there,  cherishing  the 
same  illusions — noblemen  famous  on  the  field  of  battle, 
distinguished  in  the  Government,  churchmen,  traders,  quiet 
citizens,  and  servants  whom  their  suddenly  acquired  fortune 
had  filled  with  the  hope  of  rivalling  their  masters." 

The  rue  Quincampoix  was  called  the  Mississippi.  The 
month  of  December  was  the  time  of  the  greatest  infatua- 
tion. The  shares  ended  by  rising  to  eighteen  and  twenty 
thousand  francs — thirty-six  and  forty  times  the  first  price. 


274  THE  MISSISSIPPI 

At  the  price  which  they  had  attained,  the  six  hundred 
thousand  shares  represented  a  capital  of  ten  or  twelve  bil- 
lions of  francs. 

But  the  bubble  soon  burst;  and  its  explosion  upset  the 
finances  of  this  whole  kingdom.  Some  years  later,  in  1745, 
a  French  engineer  named  Deverges  made  a  report  to  his 
Government  in  favour  of  improving  the  mouth  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi, and  stated  that  the  bars  there  existing  were  a  se- 
rious injury  to  commerce. 

But  France  met  with  too  powerful  rivalry  in  the  valley, 
and  in  1762  and  1763,  after  a  supremacy  of  nearly  a  hun- 
dred years,  was  crowded  out  by  the  English  from  the  At- 
lantic colonies  and  the  Spaniards  from  the  south-west,  the 
Mississippi  River  forming  the  dividing  line  between  the  re- 
gions acquired  by  those  two  nations.  The  Spanish  officials, 
for  the  purpose  of  promoting  colonization,  and  to  aid  in  es- 
tablishing trading-posts  on  the  Mississippi, '  Missouri,  Ar- 
kansas, Red,  and  other  rivers  in  the  western  half  of  the 
valley,  granted  to  certain  individuals,  pioneers,  and  settlers, 
large  tracts  of  land.  They  made  little  progress,  however, 
in  peopling  their  new  territory. 

But  whatever  progress  was  made  under  the  successive 
supremacies  of  France  and  Spain,  the  Mississippi  and  its 
navigable  tributaries  supplied  the  only  highways  of  com- 
munication and  commerce. 

In  the  year  1800,  soon  after  Napoleon  I.  became  the 
civil  ruler  of  France,  he  sought  to  add  to  the  commercial 
glory  of  his  country  by  re-acquiring  the  territory  resting 
upon  the  Mississippi  which  his  predecessors  had  parted 
with  in  1763. 

To  quote  the  language  of  a  French  historian :  "  The 
cession  that  France  made  of  Louisiana  to  Spain  in  1763 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  275 

had  been  considered  in  all  our  maritime  and  com- 
mercial cities  as  impolitic  and  injurious  to  the  interests  of 
our  navigation,  as  well  as  to  the  French  West  Indies,  and 
it  was  very  generally  wished  that  an  opportunity  might  oc- 
cur of  recovering  that  colony.  One  of  the  first  cares  of 
Bonaparte  was  to  renew  with  the  court  of  Madrid  a  nego- 
tiation on  that  subject." 

He  succeeded  in  these  negotiations,  and  by  secret  treaty 
of  St.  Ildefonso,  in  1800,  French  domination  was  once  more 
established  over  the  great  river. 

Two  years  later,  the  commerce  of  the  river  had  grown  to 
large  proportions.  Says  Marbois,  of  that  period  :  "  No  rivers 
of  Europe  are  more  frequented  than  the  Mississippi  and 
tributaries."  A  substantially  correct  idea  of  their  patronage 
may  be  obtained  from  the  record  of  the  foreign  commerce 
from  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  for  nearly  all  of  the 
commodities  collected  there  for  export  had  first  floated 
down  the  river. 

Marbois  well  illustrates  the  intense  indignation  at  this 
order  on  the  part  of  the  Western  people  by  attributing  to 
them  the  following  language :  "  The  Mississippi  is  ours 
by  the  law  of  nature ;  it  belongs  to  us  by  our  numbers,  and 
by  the  labour  which  we  have  bestowed  on  those  spots 
which  before  our  arrival  were  desert  and  barren.  Our  in- 
numerable rivers  swell  it  and  flow  with  it  into  the  Gulf 
Sea.  Its  mouth  is  the  only  issue  which  nature  has  given 
to  our  waters,  and  we  wish  to  use  it  for  our  vessels.  No 
power  in  the  world  shall  deprive  us  of  this  right." 

Of  Morales's  order  James  Madison,  then  Secretary  of 
State,  wrote  the  official  representative  of  the  United  States 
at  the  court  of  Spain  : 

"  You  are  aware  of  the  sensibility  of  our  Western  citi- 


276  THE  MISSISSIPPI 

zens  to  such  an  occurrence.  This  sensibility  is  justified  by 
the  interest  they  have  at  stake.  The  Mississippi  to  them 
is  everything.  It  is  the  Hudson,  the  Delaware,  the  Poto- 
mac, and  all  the  navigable  rivers  of  the  Atlantic  States 
formed  into  one  stream." 

At  this  time  Thomas  Jefferson  was  President,  and  in 
view  of  the  uneasiness  of  the  Western  settlers,  he  hastened 
to  send  to  France  a  special  ambassador  to  negotiate  for  the 
purchase  of  the  Louisiana  Territory.  The  opportunity  was 
a  favourable  one,  for  France  was  then  in  danger  of  a  con- 
flict with  Great  Britain.  The  latter  country  had  become 
alarmed  at  and  jealous  of  Bonaparte's  commercial  conquests, 
and  he,  apprehending  war  and  fearing  that  he  could  not  hold 
Louisiana,  had  about  determined  to  do  the  next  best  thing 
— dispose  of  it  to  one  of  England's  rivals. 

Marbois,  the  historian  of  Louisiana,  from  whom  we  have 
above  quoted,  was  chosen  by  Napoleon  to  represent  France 
in  the  negotiations  with  the  representative  of  the  United 
States  sent  by  Jefferson.  His  account  of  the  cession — the 
consultation  between  Napoleon  and  his  ministers — and  of 
his  remarks  and  motives,  forms  one  of  the  most  instructive 
and  interesting  chapters  of  modern  history.  Napoleon  fore- 
shadowed his  action  by  the  following  remark  to  one  of  his 
counsellors : 

"  To  emancipate  nations  from  the  commercial  tyranny 
of  England  it  is  necessary  to  balance  her  influence  by  a 
maritime  power  that  may  one  day  become  her  rival ;  that 
power  is  the  United  States.  The  English  aspire  to  dispose 
of  all  the  riches  of  the  world.  I  shall  be  useful  to  the 
whole  universe  if  I  can  prevent  their  ruling  America  as 
they  rule  Asia." 

In  a  subsequent  conversation  with  two  of  his  ministers, 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  277 

on  the  loth  of  April,  1803,  on  the  subject  of  the  proposed 
cession,  he  said  in  speaking  of  England  :  "  They  shall  not 
have  the  Mississippi  which  they  covet." 

In  accordance  with  this  conclusion,  on  the  3Oth  day  of 
the  same  month,  the  sale  was  made  to  the  United  States. 
When  informed  that  his  instructions  had  been  carried  out 
and  the  treaty  consummated,  he  remarked  : 

"  This  accession  of  territory  strengthens  forever  the  power 
of  the  United  States,  and  I  have  just  given  to  England  a 
maritime  rival  that  will  sooner  or  later  humble  her  pride." 

Under  the  stimulating  influence  of  American  enterprise 
the  commerce  of  the  valley  rapidly  developed.  In  1812  it 
entered  upon  a  new  era  of  progress  by  the  introduction  for 
the  first  time  upon  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi  of  steam 
transportation. 

The  river  trade  then  grew  from  year  to  year,  until  the 
total  domestic  exports  of  its  sole  outlet  at  the  sea-board — 
the  port  of  New  Orleans — had  during  the  fiscal  year 
1855-56  reached  the  value  of  over  $80,000,000.  Its  pres- 
tige was  then  eclipsed  by  railways,  the  first  line  reaching 
the  Upper  Mississippi  in  1854,  and  the  second  the  Lower 
Mississippi,  at  St.  Louis  in  1857.  $ays  P°°r  • 

"  The  line  first  opened  in  this  state  from  Chicago  to  the 
Mississippi  was  the  Chicago  and  Rock  Island,  completed 
in  February,  1854.  The  completion  of  this  road  extended 
the  railway  system  of  the  country  to  the  Mississippi,  up  to 
this  time  the  great  route  of  commerce  of  the  interior.  This 
work,  in  connection  with  the  numerous  other  lines  since 
opened,  has  almost  wholly  diverted  this  commerce  from 
what  may  be  termed  its  natural  to  artificial  channels,  so 
that  no  considerable  portion  of  it  now  flowed  down  the 
river  to  New  Orleans." 


278  THE  MISSISSIPPI 

The  correctness  of  this  assertion  may  be  seen  by  refer- 
ence to  the  statistics  of  the  total  domestic  exports  of  New 
Orleans  during  the  year  ending  June  30,  1879.  They 
were  $63,794,000  in  value,  or  $16,000,000  less  than  in 
1856,  when  the  rivalry  with  railways  began. 

But  since  1879  the  river  has  entered  upon  a  new  and 
important  era.  The  successful  completion  of  the  jetties  by 
Capt.  Jas.  B.  Eads  inaugurated  a  new  era  of  river  com- 
merce and  regained  for  it  some  of  its  lost  prestige. 

Another  step  of  great  importance  to  the  welfare  of  the 
Mississippi  was  taken  about  this  time.  The  control  of  its 
improvement  was  transferred  by  Congress  to  a  board  of 
skilled  engineers  known  as  the  Mississippi  River  Commis- 
sion. The  various  conflicting  theories  of  improvement 
which  have  for  years  past  done  much  to  defeat  the  grand 
consummation  desired  will  now  be  adjusted  in  a  scientific 
and  business-like  manner. 

Again,  the  rapidly  growing  popular  demand  throughout 
the  United  States  for  more  intimate  commercial  relations 
with  Mexico  and  the  several  sister  nations  of  Central  and 
South  America,  which  lie  opposite  the  mouth  of  this  great 
River  System,  is  stimulating  the  long-neglected  longitude 
trade  and  thereby  creating  a  new  demand  for  new  transpor- 
tation on  the  longitudinal  water-ways  which  comprise  the 
Mississippi  and  its  tributaries. 

The  Mississippi  and  tributaries  considered  as  a  drainage 
system,  extend  nearly  the  whole  length  of  the  United  States 
from  Canada  to  the  Gulf,  and  across  more  than  half  its 
width,  or  from  the  summit  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  to  that 
of  the  Alleghanies. 

Steamers  can  now  transport  freight  in  unbroken  bulk 
from  St.  Anthony's  Falls  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  a  distance 


THE  MISSISSIPPI  279 

of  2,161  miles,  and  from  Pittsburg  to  Fort  Benton,  Mont., 
4,333  miles.  Lighter  craft  can  ascend  the  Missouri  to 
Great  Falls,  near  where  that  river  leaves  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. 


THE  ZAMBESI 

HENRY  DRUMMOND 

ZAMBESI,  the  most  important  river  on  the  East  Coast 
of  Africa,  and  the  fourth  largest  on  the  continent, 
drains  during  its  course  of  about  1,200  miles  an  area  of 
600,000  square  miles.  Its  head-streams,  which  have  not 
yet  been  fully  explored,  are  the  Leeambye,  or  lambaji,  ris- 
ing in  Cazembe's  country ;  the  Lungebungo,  which  de- 
scends from  the  Mossamba  Mountains ;  and  the  Leeba 
River,  from  the  marshy  Lake  Dilolo  (4,740  feet),  situated 
between  10°  and  12°  south  latitude  and  22°  and  23°  east 
longitude.  These  three  rivers,  reinforced  by  the  Nhengo, 
unite  to  form  the  upper  Zambesi  (Leeambye),  which  flows 
at  first  southwards  and  slightly  eastwards  through  the  Barotse 
valley,  then  turns  prominently  to  the  east  near  its  junction 
with  the  Chobe  (Chuando  or  Linianti),  and  passes  over  the 
Victoria  Falls.  Thence,  as  the  middle  reach  of  the  Zam- 
besi, the  river  sweeps  north-east  towards  Zumbo  and  the 
Kebrabassa  rapids  above  Tete,  and  finally  forms  the  lower 
Zambesi,  which  curves  southwards  until  it  reaches  the  In- 
dian Ocean  at  18°  50'  south  latitude.  Fed  chiefly  from 
the  highland  country  which  stretches  from  Lake  Nyassa  to 
inner  Angola,  its  chief  tributaries  are  the  Loangwa  and  the 
Shire,  the  last  an  important  river  draining  out  of  Lake 
Nyassa,  and  which  in  the  dry  season  contains  probably  as 
great  a  volume  of  water  as  the  Zambesi,  and  is  much  more 
navigable.  Except  for  an  interruption  of  seventy  miles  at 


THE  ZAMBESI  28 1 

the  Murchison  cataracts,  the  Shire  is  open  throughout  its 
entire  length  to  the  lake. 

On  the  whole  the  Zambesi  has  a  gentle  current,  and 
flows  through  a  succession  of  wide  fertile  valleys  and  richly 
wooded  plains;  but,  owing  to  the  terrace-like  structure  of 
the  continent,  the  course  of  the  river  is  interrupted  from 
point  to  point  by  cataracts  and  rapids.  These  form  serious, 
and  in  some  cases  insurmountable,  hindrances  to  navi- 
gation. Those  on  the  lower  Zambesi  begin  with  its  delta. 
The  bar  here  was  long  held  to  be  impassable,  except  to  ves- 
sels of  the  shallowest  draught,  but  the  difficulty  was  exag- 
gerated partly  through  ignorance  and  partly  in  the  interests 
of  the  Portuguese  settlement  of  Quilimane,  which,  before 
the  merits  of  the  Kongone  entrance  were  understood,  had 
been  already  established  on  the  Qua-qua  River,  sixty  miles 
to  the  north.  The  Zambesi  is  now  known  to  have  four 
mouths,  the  Milambe  to  the  west,  the  Kongone,  the  Leeabo, 
and  the  Timbwe.  The  best  of  these,  the  Kongone,  has 
altered  and  the  channel  improved  recently.  There  are  at 
least  eighteen  feet  of  water  on  the  bar  at  high  water  neap 
tides ;  and  steamers  drawing  fifteen  feet,  and  sailing  vessels 
drawing  three  feet  less,  have  no  difficulty  in  entering.  The 
deep  water  continues  only  a  short  distance,  and,  after 
Mazaro  (sixty  miles)  is  reached,  where  the  river  has  already 
dwindled  to  the  breadth  of  a  mile,  the  channel  is  open  in 
the  dry  season  as  far  as  Senna  (120  miles  from  the  mouth) 
for  vessels  drawing  four  and  one-half  feet.  Up  to  this  point 
navigation  could  only  be  successfully  and  continuously  car- 
ried on  by  vessels  of  much  lighter  draught — stern-wheelers 
for  preference  with  a  draught  of  little  more  than  eighteen 
inches.  About  ninety  miles  from  Senna  the  river  enters 
the  Lupata  gorge,  the  impetuous  current  contracting  between 


282  THE  ZAMBESI 

walls  to  a  width  of  scarcely  200  yards.  Passing  Tete  (240 
miles  from  the  mouth  with  a  smooth  course)  the  channel 
becomes  dangerous  at  Kebrabassa,  ninety  miles  further  on. 
From  the  Kebrabassa  rapids  upwards,  and  past  the  Victoria 
Falls,  there  are  occasional  stretches  of  navigable  water  ex- 
tending for  considerable  distances,  while  the  upper  Zambesi 
with  its  confluents  and  their  tributaries  forms  a  really  fine 
and  extensive  waterway.  Like  the  Nile,  the  Zambesi  is 
visited  by  annual  inundations,  during  which  the  whole 
country  is  flooded  and  many  of  the  minor  falls  and  rapids 
are  then  obliterated. 

The  chief  physical  feature  of  the  Zambesi  is  the  Mosi- 
oa-tunya  ("  smoke  sounds  there  ")  or  Victoria  Falls,  admitted 
to  be  one  of  the  noblest  waterfalls  in  the  world.  The  cat- 
aract is  bounded  on  three  sides  by  ridges  300  or  400  feet 
high,  and  these,  along  with  many  islands  dotted  over  the 
stream,  are  covered  with  sylvan  vegetation.  The  falls,  ac- 
cording to  Livingstone,  are  caused  by  a  stupendous  crack 
or  rent,  with  sharp  and  almost  unbroken  edges,  stretching 
right  across  the  river  in  the  hard  black  basalt  which  here 
forms  the  bed.  The  cleft  is  360  feet  in  sheer  depth  and 
close  upon  a  mile  in  length.  Into  this  chasm,  or  more  than 
twice  the  depth  of  Niagara,  the  river  rolls  with  a  deafening 
roar,  sending  up  vast  columns  of  spray,  which  are  visible 
for  a  distance  of  twenty  miles.  Unlike  Niagara,  the  Mosi- 
oa-tunya  does  not  terminate  in  an  open  gorge,  the  river  im- 
mediately below  the  fall  being  blocked  at  eighty  yards  by 
the  opposing  side  of  the  (supposed)  cleft  running  parallel  to 
the  precipice  which  forms  the  waterfall.  The  only  outlet 
is  a  narrow  channel  cut  in  this  barrier  at  a  point  1,170 
yards  from  the  western  end  of  the  chasm  and  some  600 
from  its  eastern,  and  through  this  the  Zambesi,  now  only 


THE  ZAMBESI  283 

twenty  or  thirty  yards  wide,  pours  for  120  yards  before 
emerging  into  the  enormous  zigzag  trough  which  conducts 
the  river  past  the  basalt  plateau. 

The  region  drained  by  the  Zambesi  may  be  represented 
as  a  vast  broken-edged  plateau  3,000  or  4,000  feet  high, 
composed  in  the  remote  interior  of  metamorphic  beds  and 
fringed  with  the  igneous  rocks  of  the  Victoria  Falls.  At 
Shupanga,  on  the  lower  Zambesi,  thin  strata  of  grey  and 
yellow  sandstone,  with  an  occasional  band  of  limestone, 
crop  out  on  the  bed  of  the  river  in  the  dry  season,  and 
these  persist  beyond  Tete,  where  they  are  associated  with 
extensive  seams  of  coal.  Gold  is  also  known  to  occur  in 
several  places. 

The  higher  regions  of  the  Zambesi  have  only  been  visited 
by  one  or  two  explorers ;  and  the  lower,  though  nominally 
in  possession  of  the  Portuguese  since  the  beginning  of  the 
Sixteenth  Century,  are  also  comparatively  little  known. 
The  Barotse  valley,  or  valley  of  the  upper  Zambesi,  is  a  vast 
pastoral  plain,  3,300  feet  above  sea-level,  about  189  miles 
in  length  and  thirty  to  thirty-five  broad.  Though  inundated 
in  the  rainy  season,  it  is  covered  with  villages  and  supports 
countless  herds  of  cattle.  The  Luiwas  who  inhabit  it  are 
clothed  with  skins,  work  neatly  in  ivory,  and  live  upon 
milk,  maize,  and  sweet  potatoes.  In  the  neighbourhood  of 
the  falls  the  tsetse  fly  abounds ;  and  the  Batoka  people 
who  live  there,  and  who  are  the  only  arboriculturists  in  the 
country,  live  upon  the  products  of  their  gardens.  Zumbo, 
on  the  north  bank,  and  Chicova,  opposite  on  the  southern 
side  (500  miles  above  the  delta),  were  the  farthest  inland  of 
the  Portuguese  East  African  settlements,  and  are  well  placed 
for  commerce  with  the  natives.  Founded  by  Pereira,  a 
native  of  Goa,  these  settlements  were  ultimately  allowed  to 


284  THE  ZAMBESI 

go  to  ruins;  but  Zumbo  has  been  recently  reoccupied. 
The  once  celebrated  gold  mines  of  Parda  Pemba  are  in  the 
vicinity.  The  only  other  Portuguese  settlements  on  the 
Zambesi  are  Tete  and  Senna.  Tete,  formerly  a  large  and 
important  place,  now  nearly  in  ruins,  still  possesses  a  fort  and 
several  good  tiled  stone  and  mud  houses.  Thither  Portu- 
guese goods,  chiefly  wines  and  provisions,  are  carried  by 
means  of  canoes.  The  exports,  which  include  ivory,  gold 
dust,  wheat,  and  ground-nuts,  are  limited  owing  to  the  diffi- 
culty of  transport ;  but  this  difficulty  is  not  insurmountable, 
for  Tete  has  been  twice  visited  by  some  small  steam  vessels. 
Senna,  further  down  the  river,  a  neglected  and  unhealthy 
village,  has  suffered  much  from  political  mismanagement, 
and  has  ceaseless  troubles  with  the  Landeens  or  Zulus,  who 
own  the  southern  bank  of  the  river,  and  collect  in  force 
every  year  to  exact  a  heavy  tribute-money.  The  industrial 
possibilities  of  the  lower  Zambesi,  and  indeed  of  the  whole 
river  system,  are  enormous.  India-rubber,  indigo,  archil, 
beeswax,  and  columbo  root  are  plentiful,  and  oil-seeds  and 
sugar-cane  could  be  produced  in  sufficient  quantity  to  sup- 
ply the  whole  of  Europe. 

The  Zambesi  region  was  known  to  the  mediaeval  geog- 
raphers as  the  empire  of  Monomotapa,  and  the  course  of 
the  river,  as  well  as  the  position  of  Lakes  N'gami  and 
Nyassa,  was  filled  in  with  a  rude  approximation  to  accuracy 
in  the  earlier  maps.  These  were  probably  constructed 
from  Arab  information.  The  first  European  to  visit  the 
upper  Zambesi  was  Livingstone  in  his  exploration  from 
Bechuanaland  between  1851  and  1853.  Two  or  three  years 
later  he  descended  the  Zambesi  to  its  mouth  and  in  the 
course  of  this  journey  discovered  the  Victoria  Falls.  In 
1859,  accompanied  by  Dr.  Kirk  (now  Sir  John  Kirk),  Liv- 


THE  ZAMBESI  285 

ingstone  ascended  the  river  as  far  as  the  falls,  after  tracing 
the  course  of  its  main  tributary,  the  Shire,  and  discovering 
Lake  Nyassa.  The  mouths  of  the  Zambesi  were  long 
claimed  exclusively  by  the  Portuguese,  but  in  1888  the 
British  Government  opened  negotiations  with  Portugal  to 
have  the  river  declared  free  to  all  nations. 


THE  URUGUAY 

ERNEST  WILLIAM  WHITE 

THE  River  Uruguay,  a  health-giving  stream  impreg- 
nated with  sarsaparilla,  and  the  lesser  of  the  two 
affluents  which  swell  into  the  mighty  La  Plata,  possesses 
charms  for  the  traveller,  denied  to  the  greater,  the  Parana, 
at  least  in  the  lower  part  of  its  course;  the  water  is  clearer, 
the  range  not  so  vast,  the  scenery  more  varied  and  pictur- 
esque, whilst  the  traces  of  industry  are  more  patent  and  the 
difficulties  and  dangers  of  its  navigation  add  a  piquancy 
unknown  to  the  sister  waters. 

As  its  shores  were  to  me  as  yet  an  unknown  region,  I 
determined  to  spend  a  fortnight  in  becoming  familiar  with 
their  beauties,  so  on  the  morning  of  the  2fth  of  December, 
in  the  midst  of  a  glorious  summer  season,  a  friend  joined 
me  in  taking  return  tickets  from  Buenos  Ayres  to  Concor- 
dia,  Entre  Rios,  which  at  the  then  state  of  the  tide,  was 
the  furthest  point  upwards  that  a  steamer  could  reach. 

During  breakfast  we  pretty  well  lose  sight  of  the  Argen- 
tine coast  and  have  nothing  before  us  but  a  broad  fresh- 
water ocean  covered  with  innumerable  blue-flowered  came- 
lotes,  consisting  chiefly  of  Pontederia,  which  spread  their 
broad  leaves  as  sails  to  speed  them  on  their  course ;  these 
nesine  fragments  descend  the  Parana  but  are  unknown  on 
the  bosom  of  the  Uruguay.  On  our  right  side  soon  rises  a 
long  low  ridge  of  sand  indicating  the  Banda  Oriental  coast, 
terminating  opposite  the  island  of  Martin  Garcia,  in  cliffs 


THE  URUGUAY  287 

resembling  those  of  loved  Albion.  Calm  as  the  Thames  at 
London  bridge  is  all  this  mighty  estuary  ;  it  is  not  always  so 
however,  but  on  this  holy  day  of  peace 

"  The  winds  with  wonder  whist 
Smoothly  the  waters  kissed  !  " 

And  it  is  only  by  sailing  over  it  in  the  glare  of  daylight  that 
any  adequate  impression  of  its  vastness  can  be  obtained. 
Whence  comes  all  this  overflowing  tide  ?  is  a  question 
readily  answered  by  the  rigid  scientist,  but  with  whose  con- 
clusions, the  imagination  rests  not  satisfied. 

After  leaving  the  outer  roads  of  Buenos  Ayres,  but  little 
shipping  is  met  with,  and  the  reflection  immediately  occurs, 
how  different  the  case  would  be,  were  this  magnificent 
water-highway  in  the  hands  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  race.  On 
finding  ourselves  nearly  abreast  of  Martin  Garcia,  the  Ar- 
gentine coast  magically  arose  under  a  strong  mirage,  the 
trees  appearing  suspended  in  the  air  and  completely  separ- 
ated from  the  shore  line ;  whilst  a  shoal  several  miles  in  ex- 
tent threatening  our  port  bow,  indicated  the  necessity  of 
hugging  the  island,  if  we  would  avoid  the  fate  of  a  fine 
bark  which  lay  rotting  only  a  few  yards  off. 

The  navigation  is  extremely  perilous  especially  at  low 
water  and  yet  but  a  few  buoys  are  visible,  an  unaccount- 
able omission,  at  least  in  times  of  peace.  A  boat  contain- 
ing the  comandante  sallies  from  the  fort  and  we,  in  common 
with  all  other  passing  vessels,  are  obliged  to  lie  to,  in  order 
to  await  its  visit. 

Martin  Garcia,  at  once  the  Norfolk  island  and  Gibraltar 
of  the  River  Plate,  is  the  key  of  the  common  entrance  to 
both  the  Parana  and  Uruguay,  as  their  bifurcation  occurs 
farther  north  j  and  the  channel,  whose  character  may  be 


288  THE  URUGUAY 

surmised  from  its  name  "  Hell  channel"  passes  within  easy 
reach  of  the  guns  of  this  sentinel  of  the  rivers,  which  has 
been  strongly  fortified  by  the  Argentine  government.  A 
barren  looking  granitic  tract,  whence  are  quarried  the  ado- 
quines  (paving  stones)  for  the  streets  of  the  metropolis,  with 
low  sandy  shores,  rising  in  the  interior  to  the  height  of  two 
hundred  feet  and  bristling  with  permanent  fortifications  and 
earthworks,  it  presents  a  standing  menace  to  dispute  with 
intruders  entrance  by  water  into  the  heart  of  the  republic. 
On  entering  the  River  Uruguay,  which  has  an  embouchure 
of  about  thirteen  miles,  both  banks  are  visible  and  very 
striking  differences  they  present }  the  right  or  Entre-Riano 
shore  is  well-wooded  and  clothed  with  vegetation,  whilst 
the  left  or  Montevidean  lies  in  all  its  naked  barrenness. 
Further  on,  the  Banda  Oriental  coast  alters  its  character, 
being  fringed  with  islands  and  less  sandy;  then  jut  out  into 
the  river  a  succession  of  bold  bluffs,  almost  all  with  a  bloody 
history,  covered  with  a  scanty  verdure  emerging  from  sand, 
presenting  a  close  general  resemblance  to  the  southern  shore 
of  the  Isle  of  Wight ;  and  these  promontories  are  usually 
dotted  with  estancias.  Casting  our  eyes  across  the  broad 
waters,  we  notice  a  change  there  likewise ;  long  reefs  of 
sand  exchange  verdure  for  sterility,  and  it  is  a  remarkable 
circumstance  throughout  our  whole  progress  up  the  Uru- 
guay, that  the  two  shores  bear  continually  opposite  or,  so  to 
speak,  complimentary  characters,  not  only  physically  and 
politically  but  botanically ;  when  one  is  bold  or  fertile,  the 
other  is  low  or  sterile.  We  now  pass  several  wrecks,  at- 
testing the  difficulties  which  beset  our  watery  path. 

Rounding  a  point,  we  suddenly  come  upon  what  looks 
uncommonly  like  an  English  fishing-village,  with  its  craft 
quietly  reposing  in  a  snug  bay  j  the  church  and  cemetery 


THE  URUGUAY  289 

topping  our  eminence,  whilst  the  residence  of  the  lord  of 
the  manor  caps  another,  and  learn  that  this  is  Nueva  Pal- 
mira. The  Oriental  flag  here  boards  us  for  the  first  time 
and  the  Easterns  got  rid  of,  the  Saturno  is  again  let  loose 
on  her  orbit  to  hug  the  Montevidean  coast,  which  now  de- 
scends again  to  long  reaches  of  low  flat  sands,  with  a 
broader  stream,  forming  extensive  sabulous,  and  in  some 
cases  well- wooded  islands,  which  stretch  leagues  upon 
leagues  along  this  left  bank.  A  glorious  moon,  within  two 
days  of  the  full,  succeeded  one  of  the  angriest  yet  finest  of 
sunsets,  and  her  rays,  falling  full  upon  the  capacious  bosom 
of  the  placid  river  transformed  it  into  a  lake  of  burnished 
silver.  At  about  9  p.  M.  we  arrive  off  the  mouth  of  the 
Rio  Negro  (Black  River),  called  thus  because  the  decaying 
sarsaparilla  roots,  with  which  its  banks  are  lined,  impreg- 
nate and  discolour  the  waters  and  at  the  same  time  render 
them  so  highly  medicinal  as  to  attract  great  numbers  of 
bathers  to  its  shores. 

As  the  rising  sun's  disk  was  cut  in  twain  by  the  horizon, 
I  started  upon  deck  to  view  the  landscape.  We  were 
coursing  through  numberless  islands,  with  a  scenery  on 
both  banks  exactly  like  that  of  the  Suffolk  river  Orwell, 
but  with  an  atmosphere  O  !  how  different !  ours  was  as 
the  balm  of  Eden,  theirs,  the  nipping  dry  Eoic.  The 
breadth  of  the  stream  is  here  about  half  a  mile,  and  the 
moderately  elevated  banks  are  clothed  with  vivid  green  to 
the  water's  edge ;  then  as  the  river  narrows  again,  we 
traverse  a  beautiful  ^Egean,  whose  innumerable  islets  are 
thickly  wooded,  principally  with  Espinillo  (Acacia  cavenia), 
Tala  (Celtis  Sellowiana),  the  willow  of  Humboldt,  Ceibo 
(Erytkrina  cristagalli)  and  Laurel ;  but  which,  to  my  utter 
astonishment,  presented  scarcely  any  trace  of  animal  life  j 


2QO  THE  URUGUAY 

hardly  a  dozen  butterflies,  a  chimango  or  two,  and  a  few 
weary-looking  butcher-birds  were  its  sole  visible  representa- 
tives. About  6  A.  M.,  whilst  passing  through  low  jungle  we 
sight  our  first  city  on  the  Argentine  side,Concepcion  del  Uru- 
guay, the  capital  of  the  province  of  Entre  Rios ;  and  enter- 
ing a  deep  channel  scarce  a  hundred  yards  broad,  flanked 
by  a  double  row  of  poplars,  emerge  in  front  of  the  splendid 
Saladero1  of  Santa  Candida. 

Ten  miles  above  Paysandu,  the  river  expands  into  a  broad 
belt  clear  as  a  mirror,  in  which  the  sky,  distant  foliage  and 
hills  are  brilliantly  reflected,  the  air  changes  and  bathed  in 
tropical  fragrance  and  balminess,  the  intensely  vivid  verdure 
springs  up  magically  around  us. 

At  the  junction  of  the  Queguay,  an  oriental  affluent  with 
the  main  stream,  which  at  this  point  has  a  breadth  of  about 
half  a  mile  are  planted  several  Saladeros^  apparently  hard  at 
work;  but  whether  the  palms  are  scared  by  the  scent  of 
blood  or  refuse  to  witness  the  daily  holocaust,  certain  it  is 
that  they  here  suddenly  vanish  from  the  scene.  Twenty 
miles  above  this  rises  a  veritable  Tarpeia  in  the  shape  of  a 
very  lofty,  bold,  perpendicular-faced  mass  jutting  into  the 
river  from  the  Uruguay  coast,  and  which,  with  a  refinement 
of  cruelty  and  a  just  appreciation  of  history,  was  actually 
used  by  a  general  in  one  of  the  periodic  revolutions  to  which 
this  unhappy  country  is  so  subject,  wherefrom  to  hurl  his 
prisoners.  Two  picturesque  islands,  circular,  rising  ab- 
ruptly out  of  the  water,  apparently  exactly  equal  in  size 
and  shape,  and  hence  styled  "  Las  dos  hermanas "  (the  two 
sisters),  stand  as  advanced  guards  to  this  precipitous  promon- 
tory, and  by  their  intensely  green  verdure  to  the  river's 
edge  and  smooth  mathematical  uniformity,  offer  a  pleasing 
1  Slaughter-house. 


THE  URUGUAY  29 1 

contrast  to  the  rugged,  battered  and  blackened  face  of  the 
cliff. 

We  hold  our  breath  as  with  a  quick  turn  and  dart  through 
the  seething  flood,  our  clever  steersman  pilots  us  through 
dangers  greater  than  ever  Sylla  and  Charybdis  offered,  and 
leaves  us  at  leisure  to  survey  the  prosperous  cattle  farms, 
which,  on  both  banks,  now  line  our  approach  to  Concordia. 

At  length  about  5  P.  M.,  after  a  passage  of  thirty-one 
hours  and  at  a  distance  of  300  miles  from  Buenos  Ayres, 
we  sight  the  town  of  Concordia  on  the  right  bank,  and  at 
almost  the  same  moment  Salto,  on  the  left,  which,  rising 
tier  upon  tier,  very  much  resembles  Bath ;  these  two  occupy 
almost  the  same  relative  positions  as  Buda  and  Pesth  on  the 
Danube. 

From  its  junction  with  the  Parana,  the  Uruguay  is 
navigable  at  all  states  of  the  tide  as  far  as  Concordia,  but 
some  miles  above  that  city  occur  the  Falls  of  Salto-grande 
and  numerous  rapids  which  render  it  unnavigable  to  steam- 
ers from  below,  except  in  times  of  extraordinary  freshets 
between  which  an  interval  of  years  sometimes  elapses ; 
whilst  above  these,  although  still  sown  with  rapids,  the  river 
is  navigable  but  to  vessels  of  smaller  draught. 

From  the  marvellous  accounts  I  had  listened  to,  I  ex- 
pected to  behold  in  these  Falls  another  Niagara,  but  great 
was  my  disappointment  on  viewing  them  for  the  first  time, 
for  although  very  picturesque,  they  struck  me  as  completely 
wanting  in  the  grandeur  with  which  my  imagination  had 
clothed  them.  Extending  for  about  a  mile  longitudinally, 
they  consist  on  the  northern  limit  of  a  transverse  bar  of 
boulders  which  cause  a  perpendicular  descent  of  about 
twenty-five  feet ;  then  a  succession  of  rugged  rocks,  some- 
times of  very  fantastic  shape,  pile  Pelion  on  Ossa,  amongst 


292  THE  URUGUAY 

which  the  river  surges  and  eddies.  The  reef  spreads  com- 
pletely across  the  river,  a  distance  of  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile,  so  that  in  some  states  of  the  tide,  it  is  possible  to  pass 
on  foot  from  Entre  Rios  to  the  Banda  Oriental,  at  all  times 
a  difficult,  nay  dangerous,  undertaking.  An  island  formed 
of  massive  boulders  occupies  the  centre,  on  which  a  few 
dwarfed  trees  struggle  for  an  aquatic  existence.  Here  are 
found  splendid  agates,  blocks  of  rock  crystal,  amethysts 
and  other  precious  stones ;  and  there  lie  naked  on  the  blis- 
tering rocks,  those  rusty  and  silent  mementos  of  Garibaldi's 
unsuccessful  expedition  in  1840  when,  to  cross  the  rapids, 
he  was  obliged  to  throw  overboard  ten  eighteen-pounder 
iron  guns. 

By  contemplating  the  scene,  however,  it  grows  in  magni- 
tude and  sublimity. 


THE  TWEED 

SIR   THOMAS    DICK    LAUDER 

THE  great  valley  which  affords  a  course  for  the  Tweed, 
when  taken  in  conjunction  with  those  minor  branch 
valleys  which  give  passage  to  its  various  tributaries,  may  be 
called  the  great  Scoto-Arcadian  district  of  pastoral  poetry 
and  song.  Who  could  enumerate  the  many  offerings  which 
have  been  made  to  the  rural  muses  in  this  happy  country  ? 
for  where  there  are  poetry  and  song,  happiness  must  be  pre- 
supposed, otherwise  neither  the  one  nor  the  other  could  have 
birth. 

During  those  barbarous  times,  when  border  raids  were  in 
continual  activity,  and  when  no  one  on  either  side  of  the 
marches,  or  debatable  land,  could  lay  down  his  head  to  sleep 
at  night,  without  the  chance  of  having  to  stand  at  his  de- 
fense, or  perhaps  to  mount  and  ride  ere  morning,  the  valleys 
of  the  Tweed  and  its  tributaries  must  have  witnessed  many 
strange  and  stirring  events  and  cruel  slaughters.  To  defend 
themselves  from  these  predatory  incursions  the  Scottish 
monarchs  erected  strong  castles  along  the  lower  part  of  the 
course  of  the  Tweed,  and  the  chain  of  these  places  of 
strength  was  carried  upwards,  quite  to  the  source  of  the 
streams  by  the  various  land  owners.  These  last  were 
either  Towers  or  Peels — these  different  names  being  given, 
rather  to  distinguish  the  structures  as  to  their  magnitude  and 
importance,  than  from  any  great  difference  of  plan — the 
Tower  possessing  greater  accommodations  and  being  much 
the  larger  and  more  impregnable  in  strength  of  the  two. 


5>94  THE  TWEED 

These  strongholds,  being  intended  for  the  general  advan- 
tage and  preservation  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  valley,  were 
built  alternately  on  both  sides  of  the  river,  and  in  a  con- 
tinued series,  so  as  to  have  a  view  one  of  another ;  so  that 
a  fire  kindled  on  the  top  of  any  one  of  them,  was  immedi- 
ately responded  to,  in  the  same  way,  by  all  the  others  in 
succession ;  the  smoke  giving  the  signal  by  day  and  the 
flame  by  night — thus  spreading  the  alarm  through  a  whole 
country  of  seventy  miles  in  extent,  in  the  provincial  phrase, 
from  "Berwick  to  the  Bield," — and  to  a  breadth  of  not  less 
than  fifty  miles  carrying  alarm  into  the  uppermost  parts  of 
every  tributary  glen. 

Availing  ourselves  of  the  quaint  language  of  Dr.  Penne- 
cuick,  we  now  beg  to  inform  our  readers  that  "  The  famous 
Tweed  hath  its  first  spring  or  fountain  nearly  a  mile  to  the 
east  of  the  place  where  the  shire  of  Peebles  marches  and 
borders  with  the  stewartry  of  Annandale — that  is  Tweed's 
Cross,  so  called  from  a  cross  which  stood  and  was  erected 
there  in  the  time  of  Popery,  as  was  ordinary,  in  all  the 
eminent  places  of  public  roads  in  the  kingdom  before  our 
Reformation.  Both  Annan  and  Clyde  have  their  first  rise 
from  the  same  height,  about  half  a  mile  from  one  another, 
where  Clyde  runneth  west,  Annan  to  the  south,  and  Tweed 
to  the  east."  There  is  some  little  exaggeration,  however, 
in  the  old  Doctor  here — for  there  is,  in  reality,  no  branch  of 
Clyde  within  two  miles  of  Tweed's  Cross,  or  Errickstane 
Brae.  Tweed's  Well  is  not  very  far  from  the  great  road ; 
and  the  site  of  Tweed's  Cross  is  1,632  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  sea.  "  Tweed  runneth  for  the  most  part  with  a  soft, 
yet  trotting  stream,  towards  the  north-east,  the  whole  length 
of  the  country,  in  several  meanders,  passing  first  through 
the  Paroch  of  Tweeds-moor,  the  place  of  its  birth,  then 


THE  TWEED  295 

running  eastwards,  it  watereth  the  parishes  of  Glenholm, 
Drumelzear,  Broughton,  Dawick,  Stobo,  Lyne,  Manner, 
Peebles,  Traquair,  Innerleithen,  and  from  thence  in  its 
course  to  the  March  at  Galehope-burn,  where,  leaving 
Tweeddale,  it  beginneth  to  water  the  forest  on  both  sides, 
a  little  above  Elibank." 

The  Banks  of  the  Tweed  abound  in  simple  rural  charms 
as  you  proceed  downwards  from  Elibank  Tower,  and  they 
partake  of  that  peaceful  pastoral  character  which  its  green 
sided  hills  bestow  upon  it. 

We  now  come  to  that  part  of  the  course  of  the  Tweed, 
extending  from  its  junction  with  the  united  rivers  Ettrick 
and  Yarrow  to  the  mouth  of  Gala  Water.  The  estate  of  Ab- 
botsford  makes  up  a  large  part  of  the  whole.  The  part  of 
it  that  borders  the  Tweed  consists  of  a  large  and  very 
beautiful  flat  haugh,  around  the  margin  of  which  the  river 
flows  gently  and  clearly  over  its  beds  of  sparkling  pebbles. 

The  angling  from  Gala  Water  foot  to  Leader  foot  is  all 
excellent,  both  for  salmon  and  trout,  when  the  river  is  in 
proper  condition  ;  and  then  the  beauty  and  interest  of  all 
the  surrounding  features  of  nature  and  the  silent  grandeur 
of  the  holy  pile  of  ruin  are  such  that  even  the  unsuccessful 
angler  must  find  pleasure  in  wandering  by  the  river-side, 
quite  enough  to  counterbalance  the  disappointment  of  empty 
baskets. 

Sir  Walter  Scott  says  : — 

"  If  thou  would'st  view  fair  Melrose  aright, 
Go  visit  it  by  the  pale  moonlight ; 
For  the  gay  beams  of  lightsome  day 
Gild  but  to  flout  the  ruins  grey. 
When  the  broken  arches  are  black  in  night, 
And  each  shafted  oriel  glimmers  white; 


296  THE  TWEED 

When  the  cold  lights'  uncertain  shower 

Streams  on  the  ruined  central  tower ; 

When  buttress  and  buttress  alternately, 

Seemed  framed  of  ebon  and  ivory  j 

When  silver  edges  the  imagery, 

And  the  scrolls  that  teach  thee  to  live  and  die ; 

When  the  distant  Tweed  is  heard  to  rave 

And  the  howlet  to  hoot  o'er  the  dead  man's  grave ; 

Then  go — but  go  alone  the  while — 

Then  view  St.  David's  ruined  pile ; 

And,  home  returning,  soothly  swear 

Was  never  scene  so  sad  and  fair." 

Before  leaving  this  section  of  the  Tweed,  we  must  not 
forget  to  mention  that  the  Knights  Templars  had  a  house 
and  establishment  on  the  east  side  of  the  village  of  New- 
stead.  It  was  called  the  Red  Abbey.  Before  concluding 
this  part  of  our  subject,  it  appears  to  us  to  be  very  impor- 
tant, if  not  essential,  to  call  our  readers'  especial  attention  to 
the  singular  promontory  of  Old  Melrose  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  river.  It  is  a  high  bare  head,  around  which  the  river 
runs  in  such  a  way  as  to  convert  it  into  a  peninsula.  Here 
it  was  that  the  first  religious  settlement  was  made.  This 
monastery  was  supposed  to  have  been  founded  by  Columbus 
or  by  Aidan,  probably  about  the  end  of  the  Sixth  Century. 
It  would  appear  that  it  was  built  of  oak  wood,  thatched  with 
reeds,  the  neck  of  land  being  enclosed  with  a  stone  wall. 
It  is  supposed  to  have  been  burned  by  the  Danes.  The 
name  given  to  it  was  decidedly  Celtic  and  quite  descriptive 
of  its  situation — Maol-Ros,  signifying  Bare  Promontory — 
and  from  this  the  more  recent  Abbey  and  the  whole  of  the 
more  modern  parish  of  Melrose  have  derived  their  name. 

We   now  come  to  a  very  beautiful,  nay,  perhaps,  we 


THE  TWEED  297 

ought  to  say  the  most  beautiful  part  of  the  Tweed,  where  it 
meanders  considerably,  as  it  takes  its  general  course  in  a 
bold  sweep  round  the  parish  of  Merton.  On  its  north  side 
the  ground  rises  to  a  very  considerable  height  in  cultivated 
and  wooded  hills.  From  several  parts  of  the  road  that 
winds  over  it,  most  magnificent  views  are  enjoyed  up  the 
vale  of  the  Tweed  including  Melrose  and  the  Eildon  Hills ; 
and  then  at  the  same  time,  these  rising  grounds  and  the 
southern  banks,  which  are  likewise  covered  with  timber, 
give  the  richest  effect  of  river  scenery  to  the  immediate 
environs  of  the  stream. 

We  scarcely  know  a  place  anywhere  which  is  so  thor- 
oughly embowered  in  grand  timber  as  Dryburgh  Abbey. 
The  most  beautiful  fragment  of  the  ruin  is  that  which  is 
called  Saint  Mary's  Aisle,  which  formed  the  south  aisle  of 
the  transept ;  and  let  it  not  be  approached  save  with  that 
holy  awe  which  is  inspired  by  the  recollection  of  the  illus- 
trious dead !  for  here  repose  the  ashes  of  the  immortal  Sir 
Walter  Scott ! 

Below  Dryburgh  Lord  Polwarth's  property  of  Merton  be- 
gins and  runs  for  about  two  miles  down  the  Tweed.  As 
you  approach  the  place  of  Mackerston,  the  immediate  bed 
of  the  stream  becomes  more  diversified  by  rocks,  both  on 
its  side  and  in  its  channel.  The  Duke  of  Roxburgh's  fish- 
ings stretch  for  nearly  four  miles  to  a  point  about  half  a 
mile  below  Kelso. 

Nothing  can  surpass  the  beauty  of  the  scene  when  looked 
at  from  Kelso  bridge.  And  then  when  it  is  taken  from 
other  points,  the  bridge  itself,  the  ruined  abbey,  the  build- 
ings of  the  town,  with  the  wooded  banks  and  the  broad 
river  form  a  combination  of  objects,  harmonizing  together, 
which  are  rarely  to  be  met  with.  Each  particular  descrip- 


298  THE  TWEED 

tion  of  scenery  requires  to  be  judged  of  and  estimated  ac- 
cording to  its  own  merits.  You  cannot,  with  any  good 
effect  or  propriety,  compare  a  wild,  mountainous  and  rocky 
highland  scene  with  a  rich,  lowland  district.  But  this  we 
will  say,  that,  of  all  such  lowland  scenes,  we  know  of  none 
that  can  surpass  the  environs  of  Kelso ;  for  whilst  the  mind 
is  there  filled  with  all  those  pleasing  associations  with  peace 
and  plenty,  which  such  scenes  are  generally  more  or  less 
calculated  to  inspire,  there  are  many  parts  of  it  which  would 
furnish  glowing  subjects  for  the  artist.  Here  the  Tweed  is 
joined  by  the  Teviot ;  and  we  shall  finish  this  part  of  our 
subject  by  those  beautiful  lines  from  Teviot's  own  poet, 
Leyden,  in  his  Scenes  of  Infancy  : — 

"  Bosomed  in  woods  where  mighty  rivers  run, 
Kelso's  fair  vale  expands  before  the  sun  ; 
Its  rising  downs  in  vernal  beauty  swell, 
And,  fringed  with  hazel,  winds  each  flowery  dell  ; 
Green  spangled  plains  to  dimpling  lawns  succeed 
And  Tempe  rises  on  the  banks  of  Tweed. 
Blue  o'er  the  river  Kelso's  shadow  lies, 
And  copse-clad  isles  amid  the  waters  rise." 

Like  a  gentleman  of  large  fortune,  who  has  just  received 
a  great  accession  to  it,  the  Tweed,  having  been  joined  by 
the  Teviot,  leaves  Kelso  with  a  magnitude  and  an  air  of 
dignity  and  importance  that  it  has  nowhere  hitherto  as- 
sumed during  its  course,  and  which  it  will  be  found  to 
maintain,  until  it  is  ultimately  swallowed  up  by  that  grave 
of  all  rivers — the  sea.  A  few  miles  brings  it  to  the  con- 
fines of  Berwickshire,  and  in  its  way  thither  it  passes 
through  a  rich  country. 

Just  before   quitting  the   confines  of  Roxburghshire  the 


THE  TWEED  299 

Tweed  receives  the  classic  stream  of  the  Eden,  which  en- 
ters it  from  the  left  bank.  The  Eden  is  remarkable  for  the 
excellence  of  the  trout,  which  are  natives  of  the  stream,  but 
they  require  very  considerable  skill  and  great  nicety  of  art 
to  extract  them  by  means  of  the  angle  from  their  native 
element. 

And  now  we  must  congratulate  our  kind  and  courteous 
reader,  as  well  as  ourselves,  that  the  romantic  days  of  border 
warfare  have  been  long  at  an  end ;  for  if  it  had  been  other- 
wise, our  noble  companion  the  Tweed,  which  has  now 
brought  us  to  a  point  where  he  washes  England  with  his 
right  hand  waves  whilst  he  laves  Scotland  with  his  left, 
might  have  brought  us  into  some  trouble.  As  he  forms  the 
boundary  between  England  and  Scotland  from  hence  to  the 
sea,  we  must  in  order  to  preserve  him  as  a  strictly  Scottish 
river,  say  little  about  his  right  bank,  except  what  may  be 
necessary  for  mere  illustration.  But  as  we  see  before  us 
the  truly  dilapidated  ruins  of  what  was  once  the  strong  and 
important  fortress  of  Wark  Castle,  we  must  bestow  a  few 
words  upon  it. 

Wark  was  the  barony  and  ancient  possession  of  the  fam- 
ily of  Ross,  one  of  whom,  William  de  Ross,  was  a  compet- 
itor for  the  crown  of  Scotland  in  the  reign  of  Edward  I.  of 
England.  It  continued  in  that  family  to  the  end  of  the 
Fourteenth  Century,  when  it  appears  to  have  become  the 
possession  of  the  Greys,  who  took  their  title  from  the  place, 
being  styled  the  Lords  Grey  of  Wark,  in  the  descendants 
of  which  family  it  has  continued  to  the  present  time. 

The  Scottish  banks  of  the  river  from  the  Eden  water  to 
Coldstream  are  richly  cultivated  and  partially  wooded  by 
hedgerows  and  the  plantations  of  several  properties.  The 
view  down  the  course  of  the  stream,  which  runs  down 


300  THE  TWEED 

wooded  banks  of  no  great  height,  and  is  crossed  by  the 
noble  bridge  of  Coldstream,  is  extremely  beautiful.  The 
village  of  Coldstream  itself  is  very  pretty  with  its  nice 
modern  cottages  and  gardens ;  but  it  is  likewise  interesting 
from  some  of  its  old  buildings.  Coldstream  was  remark- 
able for  its  convent  of  Cistercian  nuns,  of  which  Mr. 
Chambers  gives  us  the  following  interesting  account : — 
Previous  to  the  Reformation  Coldstream  could  boast  of  a 
rich  priory  of  Cistercian  nuns  ;  but  of  the  buildings  not 
one  fragment  now  remains.  The  nunnery  stood  upon  a 
spot  a  little  eastwards  from  the  market-place,  where  there 
are  still  some  peculiarly  luxuriant  gardens,  besides  a  small 
burying-ground,  now  little  used.  In  a  slip  of  waste 
ground,  between  the  garden  and  the  river,  many  bones  and 
a  stone  coffin  were  dug  up  some  years  ago ;  the  former 
supposed  to  be  the  most  distinguished  of  the  warriors  that 
fought  at  Flodden  ;  for  there  is  a  tradition  that  the  abbess 
sent  vehicles  to  that  fatal  field  and  brought  away  many  of 
the  better  orders  of  the  slain,  whom  she  interred  here. 
The  field,  or  rather  hill,  of  Flodden,  is  not  more  than  six 
miles  from  Coldstream,  and  the  tall  stone  that  marks  the 
place  where  the  king  fell,  only  about  half  that  distance,  the 
battle  having  terminated  about  three  miles  from  the  spot 
where  it  commenced. 

General  Monk  made  this  his  quarters  till  he  found  a 
favourable  opportunity  for  entering  England  to  effect  the 
Restoration  ;  and  it  was  here  that  he  raised  that  regiment 
that  has  ever  afterwards  had  the  name  of  the  Coldstream 
Guards. 

The  River  Till  is  an  important  tributary  to  the  Tweed 
from  its  right  bank.  The  Till  runs  so  extremely  slow  that 
it  forms  a  curious  contrast  with  the  Tweed,  whose  course 


THE  TWEED  30! 

here  is  very  rapid,  giving  rise  to  the  following  quaint 
verses : — 

"  Tweed  said  to  Till, 
What  gars  ye  rin  sae  still? 
Till  said  to  Tweed, 
Though  ye  rin  wi'  speed, 
And  I  rin  slow, 
Yet  where  ye  drown  ae  man 
I  drown  twa." 

We  must  now  proceed  to  make  our  last  inroad  into  Eng- 
land— an  inroad,  however,  very  different  indeed  from  those 
which  used  to  be  made  by  our  ancestors,  when  they  rode 
at  the  head  of  their  men-at-arms,  for  the  purpose  of  harry- 
ing the  country  and  driving  a  spoil.  We  go  now  upon  a 
peaceful  visitation  of  Norham  Castle,  certainly  the  most 
interesting  of  all  objects  of  a  similar  description  on  the 
whole  course  of  the  Tweed. 

The  ancient  name  of  the  castle  appears  to  have  been 
Ubbanford.  It  stands  on  a  steep  bank,  partially  wooded 
and  overhanging  the  river.  It  seems  to  have  occupied  a 
very  large  piece  of  ground  as  the  ruins  are  very  extensive, 
consisting  of  a  strong  square  keep,  considerably  shattered, 
with  a  number  of  banks  and  fragments  of  buildings  en- 
closed within  an  outer  wall  of  a  great  circuit  j  the  whole 
forming  the  most  picturesque  subject  for  the  artist.  It  was 
here  that  Edward  I.  resided  when  engaged  in  acting  as 
umpire  in  the  dispute  concerning  the  Scottish  crown. 
From  its  position  exactly  upon  the  very  line  of  the  border, 
no  war  ever  took  place  between  the  two  countries  without 
subjecting  it  to  frequent  sieges,  during  which  it  was 
repeatedly  taken  and  retaken.  The  Greys  of  Chillingham 


302  THE  TWEED 

Castle  were  often  successively  captains  of  the  garrison  ; 
yet  as  the  castle  was  situated  in  the  patrimony  of  St.  Cuth- 
bert,  the  property  was  in  the  see  of  Durham  till  the 
Reformation.  After  that  period  it  passed  through  various 
hands. 

The  parish  of  Ladykirk,  which  now  comes  under  our 
notice,  upon  the  left  bank  of  the  Tweed,  was  created  at 
the  Reformation  by  the  junction  of  Upsetlington  and 
Horndean.  James  IV.  had  built  a  church  which  he 
dedicated  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  whence  it  received  its  name. 

As  we  proceed  downwards,  the  scenery  on  the  Tweed 
may  be  said  to  be  majestic,  from  the  fine  wooded  banks 
which  sweep  downwards  to  its  northern  shores.  The  sur- 
face of  the  water  is  continually  animated  by  the  salmon 
coble  shooting  athwart  the  stream. 

A  very  handsome  suspension  bridge,  executed  by 
Captain  Samuel  Brown  of  the  Royal  Navy  here  connects 
England  with  Scotland,  and  at  some  distance  below,  the 
Tweed  receives  the  Whitadder  as  its  tributary  from  the 
left  bank. 

When  we  begin  to  find  ourselves  within  the  liberties  of 
Berwick,  we  discover  that  we  are  in  a  species  of  no  man's 
land.  We  are  neither  in  England  nor  in  Scotland,  but  in 
"  our  good  town  of  Berwick-upon-Tweed."  We  have 
never  passed  through  it  without  being  filled  with  veneration 
for  the  many  marks  that  yet  remain  to  show  what  a 
desperate  struggle  it  must  have  had  for  its  existence  for  so 
many  centuries,  proving  a  determined  bravery  in  the  in- 
habitants almost  unexampled  in  the  history  of  man.  It 
always  brings  to  our  mind  some  very  ancient  silver  flagon, 
made  in  an  era  when  workmen  were  inexpert  and  when  the 
taste  of  their  forms  was  more  intended  for  use  than  for 


THE  TWEED  303 

ornament,  but  of  materials  so  solid  and  valuable  as  to  have 
made  it  survive  all  the  blows  and  injuries,  the  marks  of 
which  are  still  to  be  seen  upon  it;  and  which  is  thus  in- 
finitely more  respected  than  some  modern  mazer  of  the 
most  exquisite  workmanship. 

Escaping  from  Berwick-bridge  the  Tweed,  already 
mingled  with  the  tide,  finds  its  way  down  to  its  estuary,  the 
sand  and  muddy  shores  of  which  have  no  beauty  in  them. 

And  now,  oh  silver  Tweed !  we  bid  thee  a  kind  and  last 
adieu,  having  seen  thee  rendered  up  to  that  all-absorbing 
ocean,  with  which  all  rivers  are  doomed  to  be  commingled, 
and  their  existence  terminated,  as  is  that  of  frail  man,  with 
the  same  hope  of  being  thence  restored  by  those  well- 
springs  of  life  that  are  formed  above  the  clouds. 


NIAGARA 

JOHN  TYNDALL 

IT  is  one  of  the  disadvantages  of  reading  books  about 
natural  scenery  that  they  fill  the  mind  with  pictures, 
often  exaggerated,  often  distorted,  often  blurred,  and,  even 
when  well  drawn,  injurious  to  the  freshness  of  first  impres- 
sions. Such  has  been  the  fate  of  most  of  us  with  regard 
to  the  Falls  of  Niagara.  There  was  little  accuracy  in  the 
estimates  of  the  first  observers  of  the  cataract.  Startled  by 
an  exhibition  of  power  so  novel  and  so  grand,  emotion 
leaped  beyond  the  control  of  the  judgment,  and  gave  cur- 
rency to  notions  which  have  often  led  to  disappointment. 
A  record  of  a  voyage,  in  1535,  by  a  French  mariner 
named  Jacques  Cartier,  contains,  it  is  said,  the  first  printed 
allusion  to  Niagara.  In  1603  the  first  map  of  the  district 
was  constructed  by  a  Frenchman  named  Champlain.  In 
1648  the  Jesuit  Rageneau,  in  a  letter  to  his  superior  at 
Paris,  mentions  Niagara  as  "  a  cataract  of  frightful  height." 
In  the  winter  of  1678  and  1679  the  cataract  was  visited  by 
Father  Hennepin,  and  described  in  a  book  dedicated  "  to 
the  King  of  Great  Britain."  He  gives  a  drawing  of  the 
waterfall,  which  shows  that  serious  changes  have  taken 
place  since  his  time.  He  describes  it  as  "a  great  and 
prodigious  cadence  of  water,  to  which  the  universe  does 
not  offer  a  parallel."  The  height  of  the  fall,  according  to 
Hennepin,  was  m*re  than  600  feet.  "The  waters,"  he 
says,  "  which  fall  from  this  great  precipice  do  foam  and 


NIAGARA  305 

boil  in  the  most  astonishing  manner,  making  a  noise  more 
terrible  than  that  of  thunder.  When  the  wind  blows  to 
the  south  its  frightful  roaring  may  be  heard  for  more  than 
fifteen  leagues."  The  Baron  la  Hontan,  who  visited 
Niagara  in  1687,  makes  the  height  800  feet.  In  1721 
Charlevois,  in  a  letter  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  after  re- 
ferring to  the  exaggerations  of  his  predecessors,  thus  states 
the  result  of  his  own  observations :  "  For  my  part,  after 
examining  it  on  all  sides,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  we 
cannot  allow  it  less  than  140  or  150  feet" — a  remarkably 
close  estimate.  At  that  time,  viz.,  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years  ago,  it  had  the  shape  of  a  horseshoe,  and  reasons  will 
subsequently  be  given  for  holding  that  this  has  been  always 
the  form  of  the  cataract,  from  its  origin  to  its  present  site. 

As  regards  the  noise  of  the  fall,  Charlevois  declares  the 
accounts  of  his  predecessors,  which,  I  may  say,  are  repeated 
to  the  present  hour,  to  be  altogether  extravagant.  He  is 
perfectly  right.  The  thunders  of  Niagara  are  formidable 
enough  to  those  who  really  seek  them  at  the  base  of  the 
Horseshoe  Fall;  but  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  par- 
ticularly above  the  fall,  its  silence,  rather  than  its  noise,  is 
surprising.  This  arises,  in  part,  from  the  lack  of  reso- 
nance ;  the  surrounding  country  being  flat,  and  therefore 
furnishing  no  echoing  surfaces  to  reinforce  the  shock  of  the 
water.  The  resonance  from  the  surrounding  rocks  causes 
the  Swiss  Reuss  at  the  Devil's  Bridge,  when  full,  to  thunder 
more  loudly  than  the  Niagara. 

Seen  from  below,  the  American  Fall  is  certainly  ex- 
quisitely beautiful,  but  it  is  a  mere  frill  of  adornment  to  its 
nobler  neighbour  the  Horseshoe.  At  times  we  took  to  the 
river,  from  the  centre  of  which  the  Horseshoe  Fall  appeared 
especially  magnificent.  A  streak  of  cloud  across  the  neck 


306  NIAGARA 

of  Mont  Blanc  can  double  its  apparent  height,  so  here  the 
green  summit  of  the  cataract  shining  above  the  smoke  of 
spray  appeared  lifted  to  an  extraordinary  elevation.  Had 
Hennepin  and  La  Hontan  seen  the  fall  from  this  position, 
their  estimates  of  the  height  would  have  been  perfectly 
excusable. 

From  a  point  a  little  way  below  the  American  Fall,  a 
ferry  crosses  the  river,  in  summer,  to  the  Canadian  side. 
Below  the  ferry  is  a  suspension  bridge  for  carriages  and 
foot-passengers,  and  a  mile  or  two  lower  down  is  the  rail- 
way suspension  bridge.  Between  ferry  and  bridge  the  river 
Niagara  flows  unruffled ;  but  at  the  suspension  bridge  the 
bed  steepens  and  the  river  quickens  its  motion.  Lower 
down  the  gorge  narrows,  and  the  rapidity  and  turbulence 
increase.  At  the  place  called  the  "  Whirlpool  Rapids,"  I 
estimated  the  width  of  the  river  at  300  feet,  an  estimate 
confirmed  by  the  dwellers  on  the  spot.  When  it  is  re- 
membered that  the  drainage  of  nearly  half  a  continent  is 
compressed  into  this  space,  the  impetuosity  of  the  river's 
rush  may  be  imagined. 

Two  kinds  of  motion  are  here  obviously  active,  a  motion 
of  translation  and  a  motion  of  undulation — the  race  of  the 
river  through  its  gorge,  and  the  great  waves  generated  by 
its  collision  with,  and  rebound  from,  the  obstacles  in  its 
way.  In  the  middle  of  the  river  the  rush  and  tossing  are 
most  violent ;  at  all  events,  the  impetuous  force  of  the  in- 
dividual waves  is  here  most  strikingly  displayed.  Vast 
pyramidal  heaps  leap  incessantly  from  the  river,  some  of 
them  with  such  energy  as  to  jerk  their  summits  into  the  air, 
where  they  hang  momentarily  suspended  in  crowds  of 
liquid  spherules.  The  sun  shone  for  a  few  minutes.  At 
times  the  wind,  coming  up  the  river,  searched  and  sifted 


NIAGARA  307 

the  spray,  carrying  away  the  lighter  drops  and  leaving  the 
heavier  ones  behind.  Wafted  in  the  proper  direction,  rain- 
bows appeared  and  disappeared  fitfully  in  the  lighter  mist. 
In  other  directions  the  common  gleam  of  the  sunshine 
from  the  waves  and  their  shattered  crests  was  exquisitely 
beautiful.  The  complexity  of  the  action  was  still  further 
illustrated  by  the  fact,  that  in  some  cases,  as  if  by  the  exer- 
cise of  a  local  explosive  force,  the  drops  were  shot  radially 
from  a  particular  centre,  forming  around  it  a  kind  of  halo. 

At  some  distance  below  the  Whirlpool  Rapids  we  have 
the  celebrated  whirlpool  itself.  Here  the  river  makes  a 
sudden  bend  to  the  north-east,  forming  nearly  a  right  angle 
with  its  previous  direction.  The  water  strikes  the  concave 
bank  with  great  force,  and  scoops  it  incessantly  away.  A 
vast  basin  has  been  thus  formed,  in  which  the  sweep  of  the 
river  prolongs  itself  in  gyratory  currents.  Bodies  and  trees 
which  have  come  over  the  falls  are  stated  to  circulate  here 
for  days  without  finding  the  outlet.  From  various  points  of 
the  cliffs  above  this  is  curiously  hidden.  The  rush  of  the 
river  into  the  whirlpool  is  obvious  enough  ;  and  though  you 
imagine  the  outlet  must  be  visible,  if  one  existed,  you  can- 
not find  it.  Turning,  however,  round  the  bend  of  the  prec- 
ipice to  the  north-east,  the  outlet  comes  into  view. 

The  Niagara  season  was  over ;  the  chatter  of  sight-seers 
had  ceased,  and  the  scene  presented  itself  as  one  of  holy  se- 
clusion and  beauty.  I  went  down  to  the  river's  edge,  where 
the  weird  loneliness  seemed  to  increase.  The  basin  is  en- 
closed by  high  and  almost  precipitous  banks — covered,  at  the 
time,  with  russet  woods.  A  kind  of  mystery  attaches  itself 
to  gyrating  water,  due  perhaps  to  the  fact  that  we  are  to 
some  extent  ignorant  of  the  direction  of  its  force.  It  is 
said  that,  at  certain  points  of  the  whirlpool,  pine-trees  are 


308  NIAGARA 

sucked  down,  to  be  ejected  mysteriously  elsewhere.  The 
water  is  of  the  brightest  emerald-green.  The  gorge  through 
which  it  escapes  is  narrow,  and  the  motion  of  the  river  swift 
though  silent.  The  surface  is  steeply  inclined,  but  it  is 
perfectly  unbroken.  There  are  no  lateral  waves,  no  ripples 
with  their  breaking  bubbles  to  raise  a  murmur;  while  the 
depth  is  here  too  great  to  allow  the  inequality  of  the  bed  to 
ruffle  the  surface.  Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than  this 
sloping  liquid  mirror  formed  by  the  Niagara  in  sliding  from 
the  whirlpool. 

A  connected  image  of  the  origin  and  progress  of  the  cat- 
aract is  easily  obtained.  Walking  northwards  from  the  vil- 
lage of  Niagara  Falls  by  the  side  of  the  river,  we  have  to 
our  left  the  deep  and  comparatively  narrow  gorge,  through 
which  the  Niagara  flows.  The  bounding  clifFs  of  this  gorge 
are  from  300  to  350  feet  high.  We  reach  the  whirlpool, 
trend  to  the  north-east,  and  after  a  little  time  gradually  re- 
sume our  northward  course.  Finally,  at  about  seven  miles 
from  the  present  falls,  we  come  to  the  edge  of  a  declivity, 
which  informs  us  that  we  have  been  hitherto  walking  on 
table-land.  At  some  hundreds  of  feet  below  us  is  a  com- 
paratively level  plain,  which  stretches  to  Lake  Ontario. 
The  declivity  marks  the  end  of  the  precipitous  gorge  of 
the  Niagara.  Here  the  river  escapes  from  its  steep  mural 
boundaries,  and  in  a  widened  bed  pursues  its  way  to  the  lake 
which  finally  receives  its  waters. 

The  fact  that  in  historic  times,  even  within  the  memory 
of  man,  the  fall  has  sensibly  receded,  prompts  the  question, 
How  far  has  this  recession  gone  ?  At  what  point  did  the 
ledge  which  thus  continually  creeps  backwards  begin  its  ret- 
rograde course  ?  To  minds  disciplined  in  such  researches 
the  answer  has  been,  and  will  be — At  the  precipitous  de- 


NIAGARA  309 

clivity  which  crossed  the  Niagara  from  Lewiston  on  the 
American  to  Queenston  on  the  Canadian  side.  Over  this 
transverse  barrier  the  united  affluents  of  all  the  upper  lakes 
once  poured  their  waters,  and  here  the  work  of  erosion  be- 
gan. The  dam,  moreover,  was  demonstrably  of  sufficient 
height  to  cause  the  river  above  it  to  submerge  Goat  Island  ; 
and  this  would  perfectly  account  for  the  finding,  by  Sir 
Charles  Lyell,  Mr.  Hall,  and  others,  in  the  sand  and  gravel 
of  the  island,  the  same  fluviatile  shells  as  are  now  found  in  the 
Niagara  River  higher  up.  It  would  also  account  for  those 
deposits  along  the  sides  of  the  river,  the  discovery  of  which 
enabled  Lyell,  Hall,  and  Ramsay  to  reduce  to  demonstra- 
tion the  popular  belief  that  the  Niagara  once  flowed  through 
a  shallow  valley. 

The  vast  comparative  erosive  energy  of  the  Horseshoe 
Fall  comes  strikingly  into  view  when  it  and  the  American 
Fall  are  compared  together.  The  American  branch  of  the 
river  is  cut  at  a  right  angle  by  the  gorge  of  the  Niagara. 
Here  the  Horseshoe  Fall  was  the  real  excavator.  It  cut 
the  rock,  and  formed  the  precipice,  over  which  the  Amer- 
ican Fall  tumbles.  But,  since  its  formation,  the  erosive  ac- 
tion of  the  American  Fall  has  been  almost  nil,  while  the 
Horseshoe  has  cut  its  way  for  500  yards  across  the  end  of 
Goat  Island,  and  is  now  doubling  back  to  excavate  its  chan- 
nel parallel  to  the  length  of  the  island.  This  point,  which 
impressed  me  forcibly,  has  not,  I  have  just  learned,  escaped 
the  acute  observation  of  Professor  Ramsay.  The  river 
bends ;  the  Horseshoe  immediately  accommodates  itself  to 
the  bending,  and  will  follow  implicitly  the  direction  of  the 
deepest  water  in  the  upper  stream.  The  flexures  of  the 
gorge  are  determined  by  those  of  the  river  channel  above  it. 
Were  the  Niagara  centre  above  the  fall  sinuous,  the  gorge 


310  NIAGARA 

would  obediently  follow  its  sinuosities.  Once  suggested, 
no  doubt  geographers  will  be  able  to  point  out  many  ex- 
amples of  this  action.  The  Zambesi  is  thought  to  present 
a  great  difficulty  to  the  erosion  theory,  because  of  the  sinu- 
osity of  the  chasm  below  the  Victoria  Falls.  But,  assum- 
ing the  basalt  to  be  of  tolerably  uniform  texture,  had  the 
river  been  examined  before  the  formation  of  this  sinuous 
channel,  the  present  zigzag  course  of  the  gorge  below  the 
fall  could,  I  am  persuaded,  have  been  predicted,  while  the 
sounding  of  the  present  river  would  enable  us  to  predict  the 
course  to  be  pursued  by  the  erosion  in  the  future. 

But  not  only  has  the  Niagara  River  cut  the  gorge ;  it  has 
carried  away  the  chips  of  its  own  workshop.  The  shale, 
being  probably  crumbled,  is  easily  carried  away.  But  at 
the  base  of  the  fall  we  find  the  huge  boulders  already  de- 
scribed, and  by  some  means  or  other  these  are  removed 
down  the  river.  The  ice  which  fills  the  gorge  in  winter, 
and  which  grapples  with  the  boulders,  has  been  regarded  as 
the  transporting  agent.  Probably  it  is  so  to  some  extent. 
But  erosion  acts  without  ceasing  on  the  abutting  points  of 
the  boulders,  thus  withdrawing  their  support  and  urging 
them  gradually  down  the  river.  Solution  also  does  its  por- 
tion of  the  work.  That  solid  matter  is  carried  down  is 
proved  by  the  difference  of  depth  between  the  Niagara 
River  and  Lake  Ontario,  where  the  river  enters  it.  The 
depth  falls  from  seventy-two  feet  to  twenty  feet,  in  con- 
sequence of  the  deposition  of  solid  matter  caused  by  the  di- 
minished motion  of  the  river. 

In  conclusion,  we  may  say  a  word  regarding  the  proxi- 
mate future  of  Niagara.  At  the  rate  of  excavation  assigned 
to  it  by  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  namely,  a  foot  a  year,  five  thou- 
sand years  or  so  will  carry  the  Horseshoe  Fall  far  higher 


NIAGARA  311 

than  Goat  Island.  As  the  gorge  recedes  it  will  drain,  as  it 
has  hitherto  done,  the  banks  right  and  left  of  it,  thus  leav- 
ing a  nearly  level  terrace  between  Goat  Island  and  the  edge 
of  the  gorge.  Higher  up  it  will  totally  drain  the  American 
branch  of  the  river;  the  channel  of  which  in  due  time  will 
become  cultivable  land.  The  American  Fall  will  then  be 
transformed  into  a  dry  precipice,  forming  a  simple  continu- 
ation of  the  cliffy  boundary  of  the  Niagara  gorge.  At  the 
place  occupied  by  the  fall  at  this  moment  we  shall  have  the 
gorge  enclosing  a  right  angle,  a  second  whirlpool  being  the 
consequence.  To  those  who  visit  Niagara  a  few  millen- 
niums hence  I  leave  the  verification  of  this  prediction.  All 
that  can  be  said  is,  that  if  the  causes  now  in  action  continue 
to  act,  it  will  prove  itself  literally  true. 


THE  NIAGARA  RIVER 

G.  K.   GILBERT 

THE  Niagara  River  flows  from  Lake  Erie  to  Lake 
Ontario.  The  shore  of  Erie  is  more  than  300  feet 
higher  than  the  shore  of  Ontario ;  but  if  you  pass  from  the 
higher  shore  to  the  lower,  you  do  not  descend  at  a  uniform 
rate.  Starting  from  Lake  Erie  and  going  northwards,  you 
travel  upon  a  plain — not  level,  but  with  only  gentle  un- 
dulations— until  you  approach  the  shore  of  Lake  Ontario, 
and  then  suddenly  you  find  yourself  on  the  brink  of  a  high 
bluff,  or  cliff,  overlooking  the  lower  lake  and  separated  from 
it  only  by  a  narrow  strip  of  sloping  plain. 

Where  the  Niagara  River  leaves  Lake  Erie  at  Buffalo 
and  enters  the  plain,  a  low  ridge  of  rock  crosses  its  path, 
and  in  traversing  this  its  water  is  troubled;  but  it  soon  be- 
comes smooth,  spreads  out  broadly  and  indolently  loiters  on 
the  plain.  For  three-fourths  of  the  distance  it  cannot  be 
said  to  have  a  valley,  it  rests  upon  the  surface  of  the  plateau; 
but  then  its  habit  suddenly  changes.  By  the  short  rapid  at 
Goat  Island  and  by  the  cataract  itself  the  water  of  the  river 
is  dropped  two  hundred  feet  down  into  the  plain,  and  thence 
to  the  cliff  at  Lewiston  it  races  headlong  through  a  deep  and 
narrow  gorge.  From  Lewiston  to  Lake  Ontario  there  are 
no  rapids.  The  river  is  again  broad,  and  its  channel  is 
scored  so  deeply  in  the  littoral  plain  that  the  current  is 
relatively  slow,  and  the  level  of  its  water  surface  varies  but 
slightly  from  that  of  the  lake. 


THE  NIAGARA  RIVER  313 

The  narrow  gorge  that  contains  the  river  from  the  Falls 
to  Lewiston  is  a  most  peculiar  and  noteworthy  feature.  Its 
width  rarely  equals  the  fourth  of  a  mile,  and  its  depth  to  the 
bottom  of  the  river  ranges  from  two  hundred  to  five  hun- 
dred feet.  Its  walls  are  so  steep  that  opportunities  for 
climbing  up  and  down  them  are  rare,  and  in  these  walls  one 
may  see  the  geologic  structure  of  the  plateau. 

The  contour  of  the  cataract  is  subject  to  change.  From 
time  to  time  blocks  of  rock  break  away,  falling  into  the  pool 
below,  and  new  shapes  are  then  given  to  the  brink  over 
which  the  water  leaps.  Many  such  falls  of  rock  have  taken 
place  since  the  white  man  occupied  the  banks  of  the  river, 
and  the  breaking  away  of  a  very  large  section  is  still  a  recent 
event.  By  such  observation  we  are  assured  that  the  extent 
of  the  gorge  is  increasing  at  its  end,  that  it  is  growing  longer, 
and  that  the  cataract  is  the  cause  of  its  extension. 

This  determination  is  the  first  element  in  the  history  of 
the  river.  A  change  is  in  progress  before  our  eyes.  The 
river's  history,  like  human  history,  is  being  enacted,  and 
from  that  which  occurs  we  can  draw  inferences  concerning 
what  has  occurred,  and  what  will  occur.  We  can  look 
forward  to  the  time  when  the  gorge  now  traversing  the 
fourth  part  of  the  width  of  the  plateau  will  completely  di- 
vide it,  so  that  the  Niagara  will  drain  Lake  Erie  to  the 
bottom.  We  can  look  back  to  the  time  when  there  was 
no  gorge,  but  when  the  water  flowed  on  the  top  of  the  plain 
to  its  edge,  and  the  Falls  of  Niagara  were  at  Lewiston. 

We  may  think  of  the  river  as  labouring  at  a  task — the 
task  of  sawing  in  two  the  plateau.  The  task  is  partly  ac- 
complished. When  it  is  done  the  river  will  assume  some 
other  task.  Before  it  was  begun  what  did  the  river  do  ? 

How  can  we  answer  this  question  ?     The  surplus  water 


314  THE  NIAGARA  RIVER 

discharge  from  Lake  Erie  could  not  have  flowed  by  this 
course  to  Lake  Ontario  without  sawing  at  the  plateau. 
Before  it  began  the  cutting  of  the  gorge  it'  did  not  flow 
along  this  line.  It  may  have  flowed  somewhere  else,  but 
if  so  it  did  not  constitute  the  Niagara  River.  The  com- 
mencement of  the  cutting  of  the  Niagara  gorge  is  the  be- 
ginning of  the  history  of  the  Niagara  River. 

The  river  began  its  existence  during  the  final  retreat  of 
the  great  ice  sheet,  or,  in  other  words,  during  the  series  of 
events  that  closed  the  age  of  ice  in  America.  During  the 
course  of  its  history  the  length  of  the  river  has  suffered 
some  variation  by  reason  of  the  successive  fall  and  rise  of  the 
level  of  Lake  Ontario.  It  was  at  first  a  few  miles  shorter 
than  now ;  then  it  became  suddenly  a  few  miles  longer,  and 
its  present  length  was  gradually  acquired. 

With  the  change  in  the  position  of  its  mouth  there  went 
a  change  in  the  height  of  its  mouth ;  and  the  rate  at  which 
it  eroded  its  channel  was  affected  thereby.  The  influence 
on  the  rate  of  erosion  was  felt  chiefly  along  the  lower  course 
of  the  river  between  Lewiston  and  Fort  Niagara. 

The  volume  of  the  river  has  likewise  been  inconstant. 
In  early  days,  when  the  lakes  levied  a  large  tribute  on  the 
melting  glacier,  the  Niagara  may  have  been  a  larger  river 
than  now ;  but  there  was  a  time  when  the  discharge  from 
the  upper  lakes  avoided  the  route  by  Lake  Erie,  and  then 
the  Niagara  was  a  relatively  small  stream. 

The  great  life  work  of  the  river  has  been  the  digging  of 
the  gorge  through  which  it  runs  from  the  cataract  to  Lewis- 
ton.  The  beginning  of  its  life  was  the  beginning  of  that 
task.  The  length  of  the  gorge  is  in  some  sense  a  measure 
of  the  river's  age. 

The  river  sprang  from  a  great  geologic  revolution,  the 


THE  NIAGARA  RIVER  315 

banishment  of  the  dynasty  of  cold,  and  so  its  lifetime  is  a 
geologic  epoch ;  but  from  first  to  last  man  has  been  a  wit- 
ness to  its  toil,  and  so  its  history  is  interwoven  with  the 
history  of  man.  The  human  comrade  of  the  river's  youth 
was  not,  alas  !  a  reporter  with  a  notebook,  else  our  present 
labour  would  be  light.  He  has  even  told  us  little  of  him- 
self. We  only  know  that  on  a  gravelly  beach  of  Lake 
Iroquois,  now  the  Ridge  Road,  he  rudely  gathered  stones 
to  make  a  hearth  and  built  a  fire ;  and  the  next  storm 
breakers,  forcing  back  the  beach,  buried  and  thus  preserved, 
to  gratify  yet  whet  our  curiosity,  hearth,  ashes  and  charred 
sticks. 

In  these  Darwinian  days  we  cannot  deem  primeval  the 
man  possessed  of  the  Promethean  art  of  fire,  and  so  his 
presence  on  the  scene  adds  zest  to  the  pursuit  of  the 
Niagara  problem.  Whatever  the  antiquity  of  the  great 
cataract  may  be  found  to  be,  the  antiquity  of  man  is  greater. 


THE  MEUSE 

ESTHER    SINGLETON 

THE  Meuse,  or  Maas,  has  the  distinction  of  belonging 
to  three  countries, — France,  Belgium  and  Holland. 
In  its  long  journey  of  580  miles  to  the  sea,  it  passes  through 
varied  and  beautiful  scenery,  including  the  Forest  of  Ar- 
dennes, so  famous  in  the  Charlemagne  romances  and  in  the 
turbulent  period  of  the  Middle  Ages ;  then  through  the 
vine-lands  and  hop-gardens  so  often  laid  waste  by  battles  in 
Belgium ;  and  finally  through  the  flat  lands  of  Holland 
where  it  has  afforded  inspiration  to  many  painters. 

Rising  in  France  in  the  south  of  the  Department  Haute 
Marne  near  the  Monts  Faucilles,  it  crosses  the  Department 
Vosges,  where,  between  Bazeilles  and  Noncourt,  it  disap- 
pears and  has  a  subterranean  course  for  three  miles  and  a 
half.  After  crossing  the  Meuse  and  Ardennes  Depart- 
ments, passing  by  the  towns  of  Neufchateau,  Vaucouleurs, 
Commercy  St.  Mihiel  and  Verdun,  it  reaches  Sedan  and 
enters  Belgium.  During  the  rest  of  its  course,  its  name 
is  variously  Meuse,  Maes,  Maas  and  Merwede.  Above 
Dinant  it  receives  the  Lesse  and  at  Namur,  its  largest  trib- 
utary, the  Sambre,  which  almost  doubles  its  volume. 
Going  north-east,  it  flows  through  a  narrow  valley,  enclosed 
between  wooded  hills  and  cliffs,  dotted  with  picturesque 
villas  and  country  houses,  and  at  Liege  it  is  joined  by  the 
Ourthe.  The  river  now  enters  Dutch  territory,  and  is 
henceforth  called  the  Maas.  Passing  Maestricht,  or  Maas- 


THE  MEUSE  317 

tricht,  it  flows  by  Roermond,  where  it  receives  the  Roer, 
and  at  Venlo  a  canal  begins  which  connects  it  with  the 
Scheldt.  At  Gorinchem,  it  receives  the  Waal,  an  arm  of 
the  Rhine.  Now  the  Maas  soon  divides  :  the  Merwede 
flowing  west,  while  the  southern  arm  falls  into  the  Bies- 
bosch,  an  estuary  of  the  sea.  On  reaching  Dortrecht,  river 
and  sea  navigation  begin.  Here  the  Maas  again  divides. 
The  Old  Maas  flows  directly  west  while  the  northern  arm 
joins  the  Lek,  a  second  branch  of  the  Rhine,  and  continues 
its  course  to  Rotterdam,  where  the  Rotte  joins  it.  The 
two  arms  unite  here  and  flow  into  the  North  Sea  by  the 
Hook  of  Holland.  Schiedam  and  Vlardingen  are  the  last 
places  of  importance  upon  its  banks.  Including  all  wind- 
ings, the  Meuse  is  580  miles  long  and  is  navigable  for 
about  460  miles.  In  the  early  part  of  its  course  the  Meuse 
traverses  a  wide  valley  covered  by  green  meadows  and  then 
flows  through  narrow  gorges,  hemmed  in  by  high  hills  and 
cliffs.  At  Dinant,  picturesquely  situated  on  the  right 
bank,  at  the  base  of  limestone  cliffs  crowned  by  a  fortress, 
it  is  said  that  Philip  the  Good,  Duke  of  Burgundy,  and  his 
son,  Charles  the  Bold,  having  captured  the  town,  caused 
800  people  to  be  drowned  in  the  Meuse.  The  river,  how- 
ever, quite  unconscious  of  this  tragedy,  flows  on  beneath  a 
pinnacle  of  rock  called  the  Roche  a  Bayard,  because  the 
famous  steed,  Bayard,  belonging  to  the  Quatre  Fils  d' 
Aymon,  left  a  hoof-print  here  as  it  sprang  over  the  valley 
when  pursued  by  Charlemagne.  Rocks  of  fantastic  shapes 
now  rise  above  the  river,  which  is  spanned  by  bridges.  In- 
numerable villas  and  ancestral  castles  peep  through  the 
thick  foliage  and  command  the  cliffs.  The  French  border 
is  reached  at  Givet ;  and  at  Sedan,  memorable  for  the  battle 
between  the  French  and  Germans  (September  I,  1870), 


318  THE  MEUSE 

Belgian  territory  is  entered.  The  hills  and  valleys  in  the 
vicinity  of  Sedan  were  occupied  by  the  Army  of  the  Meuse. 

At  Namur,  also  grouped  on  the  cliffs,  the  Meuse  is 
crossed  by  several  stone  bridges.  The  citadel  on  a  hill 
between  the  Sambre  and  Meuse  is  believed  to  occupy 
the  site  of  the  camp  of  the  Aduatuci  described  by  Caesar. 
The  Meuse,  flowing  through  the  town  of  Liege,  forms  an 
island  which  is  connected  with  each  bank  by  six  bridges. 
The  principal  town  lies  on  the  left  bank :  Outremeuse  is  a 
factory  town  on  the  right  bank.  A  fine  view  is  afforded 
from  the  citadel  (520  feet  above  the  sea  level),  erected  by 
Prince  Bishop  Maximilian  Henry  of  Bavaria  in  1650,  on 
the  site  of  earlier  fortifications.  The  valleys  of  the  Meuse, 
Ourthe  and  Vesdre  are  here  bounded  on  the  south  by  the 
Ardennes,  while  the  Petersburg  with  Maestricht  and  the 
broad  plains  of  Limburg  are  seen  on  the  north.  On  the 
opposite  bank  of  the  Meuse  is  the  Chartreuse.  The  river 
here  is  460  feet  wide  and  is  crossed  by  several  bridges,  of 
which  the  Pont  des  Arches,  rebuilt  in  1860-3,  dates  from 
the  Eighth  Century,  and  is  famous  in  local  history. 

After  the  train  passes  under  the  Chartreuse,  the  town  of 
Jupille  is  reached,  a  favourite  residence  of  Pepin  of 
Heristal,  who  died  here  in  714.  The  town  was  often 
visited  by  Charlemagne. 

The  Dutch  custom-house  is  at  Eysden,  where  a  beauti- 
ful old  chateau  is  seen  among  its  trees ;  and  on  the  opposite 
bank  of  the  Meuse,  the  Petersburg  rises  330  feet  above  the 
river,  with  the  chateau  of  Castert  on  its  summit.  We  are 
now  in  the  Dutch  province  of  Limburg,  with  its  capital, 
Maestricht,  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Maas,  the  Trajectum 
Superius  of  the  Romans  (Trajectum  ad  Mosam\  the  seat  of  a 
bishopric  i  the  residence  of  Prankish  Kings  j  and,  later,  the 


THE  MEUSE  319 

joint  possession  of  Prince  Bishops  of  Liege  and  the  Dukes 
of  Brabant. 

At  Gorinchem  the  river  is  joined  by  the  Waal  and  as 
both  streams  are  broad,  an  impressive  sheet  of  water  is  the 
result.  For  a  time,  the  river  is  known  as  the  Merwede. 
About  four  miles  below  Gorinchem,  the  Biesbosch  (reed 
forest)  begins,  a  district  of  forty  square  miles  and  consisting 
of  100  islands  formed  by  a  destructive  inundation  in  1421, 
when  seventy-two  towns  and  villages  and  more  than 
100,000  persons  perished. 

This  inundation  also  separated  the  next  town  of  impor- 
tance, Dordrecht,  or  Dort,  as  the  Dutch  call  it,  from  the 
mainland.  This  town,  one  of  the  wealthiest  towns  of  the 
Netherlands  in  the  Middle  Ages,  presents  a  most  pictur- 
esque appearance  with  its  quaint  gables,  red-tiled  roofs,  and 
the  lofty  square  tower  of  the  Groote  Kerk,  which  has  kept 
watch  over  the  Maas  for  six  hundred  years.  How  familiar 
it  looks  in  the  silvery  light  of  early  morning  or  when  flooded 
with  the  warm  golden  glow  of  the  afternoon  to  those  who 
are  well  acquainted  with  the  pictures  of  Cuyp  and  Jan  van 
Goyen  !  Could  we  wander  through  the  town,  we  should 
find  much  to  study.  There  are  numerous  old  mediaeval 
houses  in  the  Wynstraat;  the  ancient  gate,  Groothoofd- 
Poort,  that  had  to  be  rebuilt  in  1618;  and  the  finest  speci- 
mens of  carving  in  Holland, — the  choir-stalls  of  1538-40 
in  the  Groote  Kerk.  The  harbour  is  full  of  boats  and  tim- 
ber rafts  that  have  drifted  down  the  Rhine  from  the  Black 
Forest  and  the  tjalks,  praams  and  other  Dutch  boats,  large 
and  small,  with  their  lee-boards  (called  zwaards)  used  to 
steady  the  keelless  boats,  and  bright  sails  become  more  nu- 
merous. 

The  Maas  now  flows  through  typical  Dutch  landscapes 


320  THE  MEUSE 

and  feeds  many  canals  that  lead  to  Delft  and  other 
cities. 

At  length  we  reach  Rotterdam  which  lies  on  both  sides 
of  the  river;  the  older  city  lies  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Maas  near  its  confluence  with  the  Rotte.  The  many  docks 
and  canals — Koningshaven,  Nieuwehaven,  Haringvliet, 
Oudehaven,  Wijnhaven,  Scheepmakershaven,  Leuvehaven, 
Zalmhaven,  Westerhaven,  etc.,  are  filled  with  ocean-going 
vessels  and  river  craft  of  all  sizes  and  kinds,  as  well  as 
nationalities,  presenting  forests  of  masts  and  innumerable  fun- 
nels. The  streets  are  animated  with  sailors  and  merchants, 
while  the  tree-bordered  embankment,  called  the  Bompjes, 
affords  a  gay  promenade. 

On  the  way  to  the  sea,  Schiedam  on  the  Schie,  is  passed, 
and  also  the  more  interesting  town  of  Vlaardingen,  one  of 
the  oldest  towns  in  Holland,  as  is  evidenced  by  the  market- 
place. It  is  the  depot  for  the  "  great  fishery,"  and  from  it 
a  fleet  of  125  boats  and  1,500  men  are  sent  forth  annually. 
Maasluis,  the  next  town,  which  takes  a  share  in  the  "great 
fishery,"  is  passed,  and  then  the  open  sea  greets  the  Maas 
at  the  Hook  of  Holland. 


THE  RHONE 

ANGUS    B.    REACH 

FEW  travellers  have  much  fancy  for  the  most  rapid  of 
the  great  European  streams.  If  they  at  all  make  its 
personal  acquaintance,  it  is  with  knapsack  on  back,  and 
iron-shod  baton  in  hand — when  they  stand  upon  the  mother- 
glacier,  and  watch  the  river-child  glide  brightly  into  air — or 
perhaps  it  is  near  fair  Geneva,  that,  loitering  on  a  wooden 
bridge,  they  mark  the  second  start  in  life  of  the  strong  river, 
and,  if  they  be  philosophers,  lament  the  clamorous  and  not 
cleanly  Arve.  Later  in  the  river's  career — the  pellucid 
waters  of  the  snow  are  again  and  still  more  fatally  fouled 
by  the  slow-running  Saone  which  comes  down  by  Lyons, 
heavy  and  fat  with  the  rich  mud  of  Burgundy.  At  the 
point  of  junction  there,  also,  the  tourist  sometimes  goes  to 
observe  the  coalition  of  the  streams,  and  to  find  out,  that 
instead  of  the  bigger  river  cleansing  the  smaller,  the  smaller 
utterly  besmirches  and  begrimes  the  greater.  So  pondering 
over  the  moral,  he  too  often  takes  little  further  heed  of  the 
Rhone  ;  or  if  he  does,  it  is  as  a  mere  beast  of  burden.  He 
is  bound  south,  and  he  knows  that  the  "  swift  and  arrowy 
Rhone  "  will  add  wings  to  the  speed  of  steam ;  that  step- 
ping on  board  the  long,  long  steamboat  from  the  noble 
quays  of  Lyons  at  summer's  dawn,  he  will  step  ashore  amid 
the  clamour  of  the  uproarious  Avignon  porters  by  the  sum- 
mer's eve.  But  the  day's  flight — through  rocks,  and  vines, 
and  corn-lands,  and  by  ancient  towns  and  villages,  and 


322  THE  RHONE 

through  old  bridges  of  stone,  and  modern  bridges  of  boats, 
is  to  the  conventional  traveller  usually  nearly  a  blank. 
How  different  from  the  Rhine;  no  legends  in  the  hand- 
book, no  castles,  no  picturesque  students,  no  jolly  Burschen 
choruses  over  pipes  and  beer.  The  steamer  flies  south- 
wards. If  she  be  one  of  the  quickest  of  the  Rhone  fleet, 
and  the  river  be  in  good  order,  she  could  carry  you  between 
sunrise  and  sunset,  from  the  land  where  the  chestnut  and 
the  walnut  most  abound,  through  the  zone  where  the  mul- 
berry is  almost  exclusively  the  tree ;  next  past  the  region 
where  men  are  clipping,  and  twisting,  and  trimming  the 
olive,  at  once  sacred  and  classic,  and,  finally,  fairly  into  the 
flats,  where  tropical  rice  grows  out  of  fever-haunted  swamps 
in  the  African-like  jungles  of  the  Camargue.  During  this 
flight,  it  is  to  be  noted,  that  you  have  descended  upwards  of 
600  feet,  in  fact,  that  you  have  been  steaming  down  a  modi- 
fied water-fall,  and  have  measured  in  a  day,  a  run  from  a 
climate  which  may  be  described  as  temperate,  to  one  which 
is,  to  all  intents  and  purposes,  torrid. 

And  in  this  run  must  we  not  have  passed  some  rather 
curious  objects,  some  rather  striking  points  of  scenery? 
May  not  there  have  been  nooks,  and  ravines,  and  old  towers 
within  that  sterile,  yet  viney  land,  burnt  by  the  hot  kiss  of 
the  sun,  which  are  worthy  of  a  traveller's  afternoon  ?  There 
are  many  such.  The  masonry  of  Rome  still  stands  by  the 
stream,  and  ancient  rock-perched  ruins  there  are,  telling 
grim  tales  of  the  old  religious  wars  of  France ;  tales  going 
back  to  the  Albigenses  and  Count  Raymond  of  Toulouse, 
and  in  later  days  dealing  with  the  feuds  which  Ivry  put  an 
end  to,  but  which  were  renewed  when  the  peasants  of  the 
wild  hills  of  the  Cevennes,  in  their  white  camisas,  Langue 
d'  Oc  for  shirts,  worn  over  their  clothes  as  uniforms,  held 


THE  RHONE  323 

out  the  long  and  obstinate  contest  of  the  dragonnades,  and 
frequently  beat  even  Marichale  Villars,  with  the  best  of  the 
cavaliers  of  the  Grand  Monarque.  But  there  are  still  other 
points  of  interest  connected  with  the  Rhone  itself — parts 
and  pendicles  of  the  river.  First,  look  at  the  current.  Did 
you  ever  see  a  blacker,  fiercer,  more  unmercifully  minded 
looking  stream  ?  Take  care  how  you  get  into  it.  There 
is  drowning  in  its  aspect.  A  sudden  sweep  down  that  foam- 
ing current,  and  all  would  be  over.  No  swimming  in  these 
deadly  whirling  eddies.  Once  they  embrace  you  in  their 
watery  arms,  down  you  go,  never  stopping,  even  to  die,  to 
the  sea,  whither  the  Rhone  is  ever,  ever  rushing,  ploughing 
its  way  through  shingles,  roaring  round  opposing  rocks, 
sometimes  carrying  by  assault  a  new  channel  through  a 
green  pasture,  at  others,  when  its  sudden  floods  are  out, 
rushing  with  a  furious  vengeance,  at  what  at  sunset  was  a 
fertile  island,  rich  with  the  ripe  corn,  which  to-morrow  will 
be  a  torrent,  and  a  few  morrows  afterwards — sand. 

In  spite  of  its  fury  of  current,  in  spite  of  its  sud- 
den shiftings  of  sand  and  shingle  banks,  its  sudden  floods, 
its  sudden  fogs,  the  Rhone  has  been  navigated  from  time 
inmemorial. 

Toiling  hard  and  slowly  up  the  stream  an  equipage  goes 
crawling  along,  composed  of  half  a  dozen  huge  barges 
hauled  by  those  struggling,  splashing,  panting  horses  on  the 
bank.  Before  the  introduction  of  stream,  there  were 
upwards  of  fifty  of  these  barge  squadrons.  They  floated 
down  from  Lyons  to  Beaucaire,  opposite  Aries,  in  two 
days,  but  difficult  and  dreary  was  the  passage  back.  A 
month  in  summer,  six  weeks  in  winter  were  consumed  in 
the  tedious  struggle  with  the  ever-opposing  stream. 

But  our  boat  is  sweeping  towards  a  rocky  promontory. 


324  THE  RHONE 

The  contracted  stream  shoots  rapidly  through  the  defile  ; 
and,  at  the  narrowest  point,  a  chain  bridge  appears,  con- 
necting two  small  villages  clustered  beneath  vine-covered 
steps.  The  crag  above  that  on  the  right  hand  is  castled 
most  picturesquely ;  that  on  the  left  is  crowned  with  a 
more  genial  diadem.  The  first  village  is  Tournon,  the 
second  Tain.  The  latter  is  poor,  shabby,  dirty:  the 
houses  are  rickety  and  slovenly.  All  the  slope  of  the  cliff 
is  split  up  into  squares,  triangles,  etc.,  and  bounded  by 
stone  walls  :  and  these  are  full  of  vines — the  aristocracy  of 
the  grape — in  short,  Hermitage. 

Descending  the  Rhone  a  little  further,  we  find  ourselves 
opposite  Valence.  About  a  mile  from  the  river — the 
intervening  space  is  corn-country,  the  fields  dotted  with 
mulberries — rises  a  bold  and  high  peak  of  rocks,  and  on 
their  summit,  a  nobly  perched  lyric  of  a  castle. 

Clamber  up !  The  hill  is  steep,  and  tough  to  ascend, 
and  the  heath  is  slippery.  Nevertheless,  persevere,  and 
be  rewarded  at  length  by  entering  the  ruins,  where  you  will 
perceive  a  half-crumbled  cavernous  looking  recess  in  a 
thick  wall.  It  seems  to  have  been  a  fireplace.  Approach 
cautiously  !  That  fireplace  has  no  back,  and  fuel  flung  in 
there  will  roll  out  at  a  hole  behind,  and  find  itself  upwards 
of  eight  hundred  feet  high  in  the  yielding  air. 

The  castle  once  belonged  to  a  Protestant  lord,  the 
Seigneur  de  Crussol,  and  when,  after  a  successful  foray 
across  the  river,  amongst  the  Catholic  population,  he 
managed  to  secure  a  score  or  two  of  prisoners,  high 
festival  was  held,  and  the  unhappy  captives,  amid  the 
brimming  glasses  and  convivial  jokes  of  the  company,  were 
flung  into  the  chimney  of  Crussol,  and  found  by  the 
trembling  peasantry  indefinite  masses  of  horror  next  morning. 


THE  RHONE  325 

These  were  wild  old  savage  days ;  but  let  us  go  back  for 
a  few  moments  to  days  far  more  ancient  though  hardly 
more  barbarous.  Hannibal,  coming  from  Spain,  also 
crossed  the  Rhone ;  and,  looking  at  that  wild  rushing  river, 
so  deep  and  broad,  and  perpetual  in  its  current,  we  have 
often  thought  that  the  great  Carthaginian  performed  a  more 
brilliant  exploit  in  getting  his  moorish  cavalry,  his  war- 
elephants,  and  his  undisciplined  Spanish  brigades,  across  the 
water,  than  across  the  mountains.  No  one  knows  the  spot 
he  selected  for  his  ferriage.  Imagine  the  leader  with  his 
troops  encamped,  and  chafing  at  the  broad  river  which  lay 
between  them  and  those  distant  snow-capped  hills,  beyond 
which  was  Italy.  In  three  days,  we  are  told,  the  feat  was 
achieved.  Apocryphal  accounts  tell  us  how  the  horses, 
mad  with  the  terror  of  fire,  swam  wildly  across  the  stream, 
and  how  the  elephants  trumpeted  upon  the  rafts. 

A  wide  champagne  country,  fertile  to  magnificent 
luxuriance — the  rushing  Rhone  dotted  with  wooded  islands  ; 
a  city  clustering  on  a  hill  and  a  castle  crowning  it,  and  we 
approach  Avignon.  Here  the  traveller  usually  leaves  the 
river  (if  he  be  antiquarian  and  historic)  and  examines  the 
noble  churches,  towers,  bastions  and  dungeons  with  which 
the  Avignon  Popes  beautified  the  city  ;  or,  if  he  be  senti- 
mental and  romantic,  he  prepares  his  feelings,  works  them 
— hard  work  it  usually  is — into  a  proper  frame,  and  pro- 
ceeds to  Vaucluse.  A  pretty  spot  it  is  in  itself,  with  its 
grottoed  rocks  and  limpid  waters  ;  and  certainly  the  name 
of  Petrarch  may  fairly  enough  add  a  certain  degree  of  in- 
terest to  the  scene. 

The  last  point  of  interest  is  the  delta  of  the  river;  the 
several  mouths  through  which,  after  its  rapid  course  from 
the  lake  of  Geneva,  the  Rhone  at  length  pours  itself  into 


326  THE  RHONE 

the  sea.  The  Carmargue,  as  this  strange  swampy  district 
is  called,  is  seldom  or  ever  trodden  by  English  foot.  It 
has  no  attractions  for  the  ordinary  sightseer,  but  it  has 
many  for  the  lover  of  aspects  of  nature,  of  a  strange  and 
unwonted  character,  and  of  which  few  are  to  be  seen  in 
Europe.  Proceeding  from  Arle,  along  a  muddy,  clayey 
road,  through  a  perfect  flat  intersected  by  numerous  drain- 
ing ditches,  you  gradually  find  yourself  arriving  in  a  region 
where  the  earth  appears  to  be  losing  its  consistence  and 
melting  into  mud  beneath  your  feet.  Forests  of  swamp- 
growing  trees,  willows,  and  marsh-mallows  stretch 
around  ;  and  as  you  emerge  from  them  you  come  upon  a 
boundless  plain,  an  enormous  stagnant  flat — mud  and  water 
and  water  and  mud  for  scores  and  scores  of  square  miles, 
but  intersected  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  by  a  network  of 
clay  walls,  upon  which  you  can  make  your  way,  gazing  in 
wonder  upon  the  perfect  sublimity  of  the  apparent  desola- 
tion. But  there  is  no  desolation  in  the  case.  These 
swamps  are  rice-fields.  If  you  paid  your  visit  during  the 
summer,  the  grain  will  be  growing  out  of  the  tepid  water ; 
if  during  the  autumn,  you  will  see  withered  beds  of  the 
straw  left  for  manure,  slowly  rotting  in  the  soil.  At  long 
distances  crawling  figures  appear.  These  are  the  labourers 
employed  by  the  Company  which  grows  the  rice,  and 
whose  stations  for  draining  out  the  surplus  water,  which 
would  otherwise  perhaps  overwhelm  the  whole  district, 
may  be  fixed  by  their  lofty  siphon  tubes  breaking  the  dead 
flatness  of  the  several  lines  of  view.  And  yet  there  is  a 
dreary  death-like  beauty  about  all  this  silent  land.  Shelley 
has  sung  such  ;  Tennyson  has  done  it  more  elaborately  and 
better,  and  we  find  traces  of  the  sentiment  in  "  Eothen." 
The  vast  and  the  drear  have  a  sublime  of  their  own,  and 


THE  RHONE  327 

in  this  dismal  waste  of  laid-out  world  we  feel  it.  Even 
ugliness  is  made  respectable  by  extent,  and  we  leave  the 
swamps  with  an  impression  of  lorn,  melancholy  grandeur 
looming  in  our  minds. 


THE  YUKON 

WILLIAM  OGILVIE 

TO  within  a  few  years  ago  a  great  unexplored  solitude 
extended  to  the  eastward  between  the  valleys  of  the 
Upper  Yukon,  or  Lewes,  and  the  Mackenzie,  and  from  the 
sixtieth  parallel  of  latitude  northward  to  the  shores  of  the 
41  frozen  ocean."  This  extensive  region  is  known  as  the 
Yukon  country,  a  name  rendered  appropriate  by  the  fact 
that  it  is  drained  by  the  Yukon  River  and  its  tributaries, 
which  form  one  of  the  great  river  systems  of  the  world. 

Walled  in  by  high  mountains,  and  in  consequence  unap- 
proachable from  every  side,  it  is  not  strange  that  the  Yukon 
district  should  so  long  have  remained  in  almost  undisturbed 
seclusion.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  fact  that  the  rich 
metalliferous  belt  of  the  Coast  and  Gold  Ranges  passes 
through  the  district  from  one  end  to  the  other,  the  proba- 
bility is  that  it  would  still  have  remained  unexplored  for 
many  years  to  come. 

Only  four  gates  of  approach  to  the  district  exist,  and, 
strangely  enough,  these  are  situated  at  the  four  corners. 
From  the  north-west,  access  is  gained  to  the  country  by 
following  the  Yukon  from  its  mouth  in  Behring  Sea ;  from 
the  north-east,  by  crossing  from  the  Mackenzie  to  the 
Porcupine,  and  following  down  the  latter  stream  to  its  con- 
fluence with  the  Yukon;  from  the  south-east,  by  ascending 
the  Liard  from  Fort  Simpson  and  crossing  the  water-shed 
to  the  head-waters  of  the  Felly ;  and  finally,  from  the  south- 


THE  YUKON  329 

west,  by  entering  where  the  coast  range  is  pierced  by  the 
Chilkoot  and  Chilkat  Passes. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  all  these  routes  are  beset  with  diffi- 
culties, and  when  it  is  remembered  that  there  are  only  four 
roads  into  a  region  three  times  greater  in  extent  than  the  total 
area  of  the  New  England  States,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at  that  the  total  population  of  the  region  should  consist  of 
a  few  scattered  Indian  families  and  a  hundred  or  so  of 
hardy  miners. 

Occasional  contributions  to  our  knowledge  of  the  dis- 
trict have  been  made  from  time  to  time  for  at  least  half  a 
century,  mainly  by  officers  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company, 
miners  and  employes  of  the  abandoned  Telegraph  Expedi- 
tion ;  and  skeleton  maps  of  the  interior  have  been  con- 
structed in  accordance  with  the  topographical  data,  so  far 
as  known. 

Among  recent  expeditions  that  of  Lieutenant  Schwatka, 
of  the  United  States  Army,  in  the  summer  of  1883,  may 
be  mentioned.  Entering  the  country  by  the  Chilkoot  Pass, 
Lieutenant  Schwatka  floated  down  the  Yukon  on  a  raft 
from  the  source  of  the  Lewes  River  to  Nuklikahyet,  con- 
tinuing his  journey  from  this  point  to  the  sea  by  boat. 
The  object  of  this  expedition  was  to  examine  the  country 
from  a  military  point  of  view,  and  to  collect  all  available 
information  with  regard  to  the  Indian  tribes.  We  are  in- 
debted to  it  also  for  a  great  deal  of  general  information 
with  regard  to  the  country.  Schwatka,  who  seems  to  have 
gone  through  the  country  with  his  eyes  open,  used  the  ex- 
plorer's baptismal  privilege  freely,  and  scattered  monuments 
of  Schwatkanian  nomenclature  broadcast  throughout  the 
land,  re-christening  many  places  that  had  already  been 
named,  and  doing  so  too  in  apparent  indifference  to  the 


330  THE  YUKON 

fact  that  many  thus  set  aside  had  an  established  priority  of 
many  years. 

The  part  of  the  journey  between  Victoria  and  Chilkoot 
Inlet  has  been  so  much  written  of,  talked  of  and  pictured 
during  the  last  few  years  that  I  will  repeat  only  one  of  the 
many  statements  made  concerning  it — that  though  it  is  in 
ocean  waters  and  can  be  traversed  by  the  largest  ships,  it  is 
so  sheltered  by  countless  islands  from  the  gales  and  waves 
of  the  vast  Pacific,  nearly  the  whole  of  the  length,  that  its 
waters  are  always  as  smooth  as  those  of  a  large  river.  In 
marked  contrast  to  this  is  the  west  coast  of  the  United  States, 
where  harbours  are  like  angel's  visits. 

Chatham  Strait  and  Lynn  Channel  lie  almost  in  a  straight 
line,  and  during  the  summer  there  is  always  a  strong  wind 
blowing  up  from  the  sea.  At  the  head  of  Lynn  Channel 
are  Chilkat  and  Chilkoot  Inlets.  The  distance  down  these 
channels  to  the  open  sea  is  about  three  hundred  and  eighty 
miles,  and  along  the  whole  extent  of  this  the  mountains  on 
each  side  of  the  water  confine  the  incoming  currents  of  air 
and  deflect  inclined  currents  in  the  direction  of  the  axis  of 
the  channel.  Coming  from  the  sea,  these  air  currents  are 
heavily  charged  with  moisture,  which  is  precipitated  when 
they  strike  the  mountains,  and  the  fall  of  rain  and  snow  is 
consequently  very  heavy. 

The  rapids  extending  for  a  couple  of  miles  below  the 
Canon,  are  not  at  all  bad.  What  constitutes  the  real  danger 
is  a  piece  of  calm  water  forming  a  short,  sharp  bend  in  the 
river,  which  hides  the  last  or  "  White  Horse  "  rapids  from 
sight  until  they  are  reached.  These  rapids  are  about  three- 
eighths  of  a  mile  long.  They  are  the  most  dangerous  on 
the  river,  and  are  never  run  through  in  boats  except  by 
accident.  Parties  always  examine  the  Canon  and  rapids 


THE  YUKON  331 

below  before  going  through,  and  coming  to  the  calm  water 
suppose  they  have  seen  them  all,  as  all  noise  from  the 
lower  rapid  is  drowned  in  that  of  the  ones  above.  On  this 
account  several  parties  have  run  through  the  "  White 
Horse,"  being  ignorant  of  its  existence  until  they  were  in 
it.  These  rapids  are  confined  by  low  basaltic  banks,  which, 
at  the  foot,  suddenly  close  in  and  make  the  channel  about 
thirty  yards  wide.  It  is  here  the  danger  lies,  as  there  is  a 
sudden  drop,  and  the  water  rushes  through  at  a  tremendous 
rate,  leaping  and  seething  like  a  cataract.  The  miners  have 
constructed  a  portage  road  on  the  west  side,  and  put  down 
rollways  in  some  places  on  which  to  shove  their  boats  over. 
They  have  also  made  some  windlasses  with  which  to  haul 
their  boats  uphill,  notably  one  at  the  foot  of  the  Canon. 
This  roadway  and  the  windlasses  must  have  cost  them 
many  hours  of  hard  labour. 

Lake  Labarge  was  reached  on  the  evening  of  the  26th 
of  July,  and  our  camp  pitched  on  its  southern  shore.  The 
lake  is  thirty-one  miles  in  length,  broad  at  both  ends  and 
narrow  in  the  middle,  lying  north  and  south,  like  a  long 
slender  foot-print  made  by  some  gigantic  Titan  in  long- 
bygone  days. 

As  the  prevailing  wind  blows  almost  constantly  down 
the  lake,  the  miners  complain  much  of  the  detention  from 
the  roughness  of  the  water,  and  for  the  three  days  I  was  on 
the  lake,  I  certainly  cannot  complain  of  any  lack  of  atten- 
tion from  blustering  Austral  is. 

The  survey  was  carried  along  the  western  shore,  which 
is  irregular  in  shape,  being  indented  by  large,  shallow  bays, 
especially  at  the  upper  and  lower  ends. 

Just  above  where  the  lake  narrows  in  jhe  middle,  there 
is  a  large  island,  which  is  shown  on  Schwatka's  map  as  a 


33  2  THE  YUKON 

peninsula,  and  called  by  him  Richtofen  Rocks.  How  he 
came  to  think  it  a  peninsula  I  cannot  understand,  as  it  is 
well  out  in  the  lake ;  the  nearest  point  of  it  to  the  western 
shore  is  upwards  of  half  a  mile  distant,  and  the  extreme 
width  of  the  lake  here,  as  determined  from  triangulation,  is 
not  more  than  five  miles,  which  includes  the  depth  of  the 
deepest  bays  on  the  western  side.  It  is  therefore  difficult 
to  understand  that  he  did  not  see  it  as  an  island.  The 
upper  half  of  this  island  is  gravelly,  and  does  not  rise  very 
high  above  the  lake;  the  lower  end  is  rocky  and  high,  the 
rock  of  a  bright  red  colour  and  probably  granite. 

At  the  lower  end  of  the  lake  there  is  a  deep  wide  valley 
extending  northwards,  which  has  evidently  at  one  time  been 
the  outlet  of  the  lake.  In  this  the  mixed  timber,  poplar, 
and  spruce,  is  of  a  size  which  betokens  a  fair  soil;  the 
herbage,  too,  is  more  than  usually  rich  for  this  region. 
This  valley,  which  Dr.  Dawson  has  named  "  Ogilvie  Val- 
ley," is  extensive,  and  if  ever  required  as  an  aid  to  the 
sustenance  of  our  people,  will  figure  largely  in  the  district's 
agricultural  assets. 

We  left  this,  the  last  lake  of  the  great  chain,  behind  us 
on  Saturday,  the  3<Dth  of  July,  and  proceeded  with  a  mod- 
erate current  of  about  four  miles  an  hour.  The  river  just 
here  is  crooked  and  runs  past  high,  steep  banks  surmounted 
by  scrub  pine  and  stunted  poplar  which  shut  in  the  narrow 
valley.  There  are,  however,  many  flats  of  moderate  ex- 
tent, along  the  river  and  at  its  confluence  with  other 
streams,  where  the  soil  is  fair. 

The  waters  of  the  Big  Salmon  are  sluggish  and  slow. 
The  valley,  as  seen  from  the  mouth,  is  wide,  and  gives  one 
the  impression  of  being  occupied  by  a  much  more  im- 
portant stream.  Looking  up  it,  in  the  distance  could  be 


THE  YUKON  333 

seen  many  high  peaks  covered  with  snow,  and,  as  this  was 
in  the  beginning  of  August,  it  is  likely  they  are  always 
covered  so — which  would  make  their  probable  altitude  above 
the  river,  five  thousand  feet  or  more. 

Two  days'  run,  or  about  thirty-six  miles,  the  river  con- 
stantly winding  low,  sandy  points,  and  dotted  with  small, 
well-timbered  islands,  brought  us  to  the  Little  Salmon 
(Daly  of  Schwatka),  a  small  and  unimportant  stream  enter- 
ing upon  the  east.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  objects 
along  the  river,  located  just  below  the  Little  Salmon,  is  a 
huge  hemisphere  of  rock,  called  the  "  Eagle's  Nest,"  rising 
abruptly  from  a  gravel  slope  on  the  east  bank,  to  a  height 
of  about  five  hundred  feet.  It  is  of  a  light  grey  colour,  but 
what  the  character  of  the  rock  is  I  could  not  determine,  as 
I  saw  it  only  from  the  river,  which  is  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  distant. 

We  passed  the  mouth  of  the  Nordenskiold  on  the  gth  of 
August.  The  river  here  makes  a  loop  of  eight  miles  round 
a  hill  on  the  east  bank  named  by  Schwatka,  Tantalus  Butte. 
The  distance  across  from  point  to  point  is  only  half  a  mile. 

Early  the  next  day  we  heard  the  booming  of  the  Rink 
Rapids  in  the  distance,  and  it  was  not  long  before  they  were 
in  sight.  These  rapids  are  known  to  miners  as  Five 
Finger  Rapids,  from  the  fact  that  five  large,  bold  masses  of 
rock  stand  in  mid-channel.  This  obstruction  backs  up  the 
water  so  as  to  raise  it  about  a  foot,  causing  a  swell  below 
for  a  few  yards. 

Six  miles  below  Rink  Rapids  are  what  are  known  as 
"  Little  Rapids."  This  is  simply  a  barrier  of  rocks  which 
extends  from  the  westerly  side  of  the  river  about  half-way 
across.  Over  this  barrier  there  is  a  ripple  which  would 
offer  no  great  obstacle  to  the  descent  in  a  good  canoe. 


334  THE  YUKON 

About  five  miles  above  Pelly  River  there  is  another  lake- 
like  expanse  filled  with  islands.  The  river  here  is  nearly  a 
mile  wide,  and  so  numerous  and  close  are  the  islands  that  it 
is  impossible  to  tell  where  the  shores  of  the  river  are.  The 
current,  too,  is  swift,  leading  one  to  suppose  the  water  shal- 
low ;  but  I  think  that  even  here  a  channel  deep  enough  for 
such  boats  as  will  navigate  this  part  of  the  river,  could 
easily  be  found.  Schwatka  named  this  group  "  Ingersoll 
Islands." 

About  a  mile  below  the  junction  with  the  Lewes,  and 
on  the  south  side,  stands  all  that  remains  of  the  only  perma- 
nent trading-post  ever  built  by  white  men  in  the  district. 
This  post  was  established  by  Robert  Campbell,  for  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  in  the  summer  of  1848.  It  was 
built  upon  the  point  of  land  between  the  two  rivers,  but 
this  location  proving  untenable,  on  account  of  flooding  by 
ice-jams  in  the  spring,  it  was,  in  the  season  of  1852,  moved 
across  the  river  to  where  the  ruins  now  stand.  It  appears 
that  the  houses  composing  the  post  were  not  finished  when 
the  Indians  from  the  coast  on  Chilkat  and  Chilkoot  Inlets, 
came  down  the  river  to  put  a  stop  to  the  competitive  trade 
which  Mr.  Campbell  had  inaugurated  and  which  they  found 
to  seriously  interfere  with  their  profits.  Their  method  of 
trade  appears  to  have  been  then  pretty  much  as  it  is  now — 
very  one-sided.  What  they  found  convenient  to  take  by 
force,  they  took ;  and  what  they  found  convenient  to  pay 
for,  they  paid  for — at  their  own  price. 

Rumours  had  reached  the  post  that  the  coast  Indians 
contemplated  a  raid,  and,  in  consequence,  the  friendly 
Indians  in  the  vicinity  remained  about  nearly  all  summer. 
Unfortunately,  they  went  away  for  a  short  time,  and,  dur- 
ing their  absence,  the  coast  Indians  arrived  and  pillaged  the 


THE  YUKON  335 

place,  and  set  fire  to  it,  leaving  nothing  but  the  remains  of 
two  chimneys,  which  are  still  standing.  This  raid  and 
capture  took  place  on  Sunday,  the  ist  of  August,  1852. 
Mr.  Campbell  was  ordered  to  leave  the  country  within 
twenty-four  hours,  and  accordingly  he  dropped  down  the 
river.  On  his  way  he  met  some  of  the  local  Indians,  and 
returned  with  them,  but  the  robbers  had  made  their  escape. 
Mr.  Campbell  went  on  down  the  river  until  he  met  the 
outfit  for  his  post  on  its  way  up  from  Fort  Yukon.  He 
turned  it  back.  He  then  ascended  the  Felly,  crossed  to  the 
Liard,  and  reached  Fort  Simpson,  on  the  Mackenzie,  late 
in  October. 

Nothing  more  was  ever  done  in  the  vicinity  of  Fort  Sel- 
kirk by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  after  these  events,  and 
in  1869  the  company  was  ordered  by  Capt.  Chas.  W.  Ray- 
mond, who  represented  the  United  States  Government, 
to  evacuate  the  post  at  Fort  Yukon,  which  he  had  ascer- 
tained to  be  west  of  the  14151  meridian.  The  post  was 
occupied  by  the  company,  however,  for  some  time  after  the 
receipt  of  the  order,  until  Rampart  House,  which  was  in- 
tended to  be  on  British  territory,  and  to  take  the  trade 
previously  done  at  Fort  Yukon,  was  built.  Under  present 
conditions  the  company  cannot  very  well  compete  with  the 
Alaska  Fur  Company,  whose  agents  do  the  only  trade  in 
the  district,  and  they  appear  to  have  abandoned — for  the 
present  at  least — all  attempts  to  do  any  trade  nearer  to  it 
than  Rampart  House,  to  which  point,  notwithstanding 
the  distance  and  difficulties  in  the  way,  many  of  the  Indians 
on  the  Pelly-Yukon  make  a  trip  every  two  or  three  years 
to  procure  goods  in  exchange  for  their  furs. 

On  the  igth  I  resumed  my  journey  northwards.  Oppo- 
site Fort  Selkirk,  the  Pelly-Yukon  River  is  about  one-third 


336  THE  YUKON 

of  a  mile  broad;  and  it  maintains  this  width  down  to  White 
River,  a  distance  of  ninety-six  miles.  Islands  are  numer- 
ous, so  much  so  that  there  are  few  parts  of  the  river  where 
one  or  more  are  not  in  sight ;  many  of  them  are  of  consid- 
erable size,  and  nearly  all  are  well  timbered. 

Between  Stewart  and  White  Rivers  the  river  spreads  out 
to  a  mile  and  upwards  in  width,  and  is  a  maze  of  islands  and 
bars.  Stewart  River,  which  was  reached  on  the  following 
day,  enters  from  the  east  in  the  middle  of  a  wide  valley, 
with  low  hills  on  both  sides,  rising  on  the  north  side  in 
clearly  marked  steps  or  terraces  to  distant  hills  of  consider- 
able height.  The  river,  a  short  distance  up,  is  two  hundred 
yards  in  width,  the  current  slack,  the  water  shallow  and 
clear,  but  dark-coloured ;  while  at  the  mouth,  I  was  for- 
tunate enough  to  meet  a  miner,  named  McDonald,  who 
had  spent  the  whole  of  the  summer  of  1887  on  the  river 
and  its  branches,  prospecting  and  exploring.  He  gave  me 
a  good  deal  of  information,  which  I  have  incorporated  in 
my  map  of  the  district.  This  man  had  ascended  two  of 
the  main  branches  of  the  river.  At  the  head  of  one  of 
them  he  found  a  large  lake,  which  he  named  Mayhew 
Lake.  On  the  other  branch  he  found  falls,  which  he  es- 
timated to  be  from  one  to  two  hundred  feet  in  height. 
McDonald  went  on  past  the  falls  to  the  head  of  this  branch, 
and  found  terraced  gravel  hills  to  the  west  and  north  ;  he 
crossed  them  to  the  north  and  found  a  river  flowing  north- 
wards. On  this  he  embarked  on  a  raft,  and  floated  down  it 
for  a  day  or  two,  thinking  it  would  turn  to  the  west  and 
join  the  Stewart,  but  finding  it  still  continuing  north,  and 
acquiring  too  much  volume  to  be  any  of  the  branches  he 
had  seen  while  passing  up  the  Stewart,  he  returned  to  his 
point  of  departure,  and  after  prospecting  among  the  hills 


THE  YUKON  337 

around  the  head  of  the  river  he  started  westwards,  crossing 
a  high  range  of  mountains  composed  principally  of  shales 
with  many  thin  seams  of  what  is  called  quartz,  ranging 
from  one  to  six  inches  in  thickness.  On  the  west  side  of 
this  range  he  found  the  head-waters  of  Beaver  River,  which 
he  descended  on  a  raft,  taking  five  days  to  do  so. 

It  is  probable  the  river  flowing  northwards,  on  which  he 
made  a  journey  and  returned,  is  a  branch  of  Peel  River. 
The  timber  on  the  gravel  terraces  of  the  water-shed,  he 
described  as  small  and  open.  He  was  alone  in  this  un- 
known wilderness  all  summer,  not  seeing  even  any  of  the 
natives.  There  are  few  men,  I  think,  so  constituted  as  to 
be  capable  of  isolating  themselves  in  such  a  manner. 

On  the  ist  of  September,  we  passed  the  site  of  the 
temporary  trading- post  shown  on  the  maps  as  Fort  Re- 
liance. Several  days  of  continuous  rain  now  interrupted 
our  work  so  that  Forty  Mile  River  (Cone  Hill  River  of 
Schwatka)  was  not  reached  till  the  yth  of  September. 


THE  JORDAN 

ANDREW  ROBERT  FAUSSET 

THE  Jordan  is  two  hundred  miles  long  from  its  source 
at  Antilebanon  to  the  head  of  the  Dead  Sea.  It  is 
not  navigable,  nor  has  it  ever  had  a  large  town  on  its  banks. 
The  cities  Bethsham  and  Jericho  on  the  west,  and 
Gerasa,  Pella,  and  Gadara  to  the  east  of  Jordan  produced 
intercourse  between  the  two  sides  of  the  river.  Yet  it  is 
remarkable  as  the  river  of  the  great  plain  (ha  Arabab,  now 
el  Ghor)  of  the  Holy  Land,  flowing  through  the  whole 
from  north  to  south.  Lot,  from  the  hills  on  the  north-west 
of  Sodom,  seeing  the  plain  well  watered  by  it,  as  Egypt  is 
by  the  Nile,  chose  that  district  as  his  home,  in  spite  of  the 
notorious  wickedness  of  the  people. 

Its  sources  are  three.  The  northernmost  near  Hasbeya 
between  Hermon  and  Lebanon  ;  the  stream  is  called  Has- 
bany.  The  second  is  best  known,  near  Banias,  ;'.  *., 
Caesarea  Philippi,  a  large  pool  beneath  a  high  clifF,  fed  by 
gushing  streamlets,  rising  at  the  mouth  of  a  deep  cave ; 
thence  the  Jordan  flows,  a  considerable  stream.  The 
third  is  at  Dan,  or  Tel  el  Kady  (Daphne)  ;  from  the  north- 
west corner  of  a  green  eminence  a  spring  bursts  forth  into  a 
clear  wide  pool,  which  sends  a  broad  stream  into  the  val- 
ley. The  three  streams  unite  at  Tel  Dafneh,  and  flow 
sluggishly  through  marshland  into  Lake  Meron.  Captain 
Newbold  adds  a  fourth,  wady  el  Kid  on  the  south-east  of  the 
slope,  flowing  from  the  springs  Esh  Shar.  Indeed 


THE  JORDAN  339 

Antilebanon  abounds  in  gushing  streams  which  all  make 
their  way  into  the  swamp  between  Banias  and  Huleh  and 
become  part  of  the  Jordan.  The  traditional  site  of  Jacob's 
crossing  Jordan  at  his  first  leaving  Beersheba  for  Padan 
Aram  is  a  mile  and  a  half  from  Merom,  and  six  from  the 
Sea  of  Galilee :  in  those  six  its  descent  with  roaring 
cataracts  over  the  basaltic  rocks  is  1,050  feet.  This,  the 
part  known  to  Naaman  in  his  invasions,  is  the  least  attract- 
ive part  of  its  course ;  and  was  unfavourably  contrasted 
with  Abana  and  Pharpar  of  his  native  land.  From  the  Sea 
of  Galilee,  it  winds  200  miles  in  the  sixty  miles  of  actual 
distance  to  the  Dead  Sea.  Its  tortuous  course  is  the  secret 
of  the  great  depression  (the  Dead  Sea  being  663  feet  below 
the  lake  of  Galilee)  in  this  distance. 

Three  banks  may  be  noted  in  the  Ghor  or  Jordan  valley, 
the  upper  or  first  slope  (the  abrupt  edge  of  a  wide  table 
land  reaching  to  the  Hauran  Mountains  on  the  east  and  the 
high  hills  on  the  west  side),  the  lower  or  middle  terrace 
embracing  the  strip  of  land  with  vegetation,  and  the  true 
banks  of  the  river  bed,  with  a  jungle  of  agnus  castus, 
tamarisks,  and  willows  and  reed  and  cane  at  the  edge,  the 
stream  being  ordinarily  thirty  yards  wide.  At  the  flood, 
the  river  cannot  be  forded,  being  ten  or  twelve  feet  deep 
east  of  Jericho ;  but  in  summer  it  can,  the  water  being 
low.  To  cross  it  in  the  flood  by  swimming  was  an  extra- 
ordinary feat  performed  by  the  Gadites  who  joined  David ; 
this  was  impossible  for  Israel  under  Joshua  with  wives  and 
children.  The  Lord  of  the  whole  earth  made  the  descend- 
ing waters  stand  in  a  heap  very  far  from  their  place  of 
crossing,  viz  :  by  the  town  of  Adam,  that  is  beside  Zarthan 
or  Zaretan,  the  moment  that  the  feet  of  the  priests  bearing 
the  ark  dipped  into  the  water.  The  priests  then  stood  in 


340  THE  JORDAN 

the  midst  of  the  dry  river  bed  till  all  Israel  crossed  over. 
Joshua  erected  a  monument  of  twelve  large  stones  in  the 
riverbed  where  the  priests  had  stood,  near  the  east  bank  of 
the  river.  This  would  remain  at  least  for  a  time  as  a 
memorial  to  the  existing  generation  besides  the  monument 
erected  at  Gilgal. 

By  this  lower  ford,  David  passed  to  fight  Syria,  and  after- 
wards in  his  flight  from  Absalom  to  Mahanaim,  east  of 
Jordan.  Thither  Judah  escorted  him  and  we  crossed  in  a 
ferry  boat.  Here  Elijah  and  Elisha  divided  the  waters  with 
the  prophets'  mantle.  At  the  upper  fords  Naaman  washed 
off  his  leprosy.  Here  too  the  Syrians  fled,  when  panic- 
struck  by  the  Lord. 

John  the  Baptist  "  first "  baptized  at  the  lower  ford  near 
Jericho,  whither  all  Jerusalem  and  Judea  resorted,  being 
near;  where  too,  our  Lord  took  refuge  from  Jerusalem, 
and  where  many  converts  joined  Him,  and  from  whence 
He  went  to  Bethany  to  raise  Lazarus.  John's  next  bap- 
tisms were  at  Bethabara ;  thither  out  of  Galilee  the  Lord 
Jesus  and  Andrew  repaired  after  the  baptisms  in  the 
south,  and  were  baptized.  His  third  place  of  baptism  was 
near  JEnon  and  Salim,  still  farther  to  the  north,  where  the 
water  was  still  deep  though  it  was  summer,  after  the  pass- 
over,  for  there  was  no  ford  there ;  he  had  to  go  thither,  the 
water  being  too  shallow  at  the  ordinary  fords.  John  moved 
gradually  northwards  towards  Herod's  province,  where  ulti- 
mately he  was  beheaded;  Jesus,  coming  from  the  north 
southwards,  met  John  half-way. 

The  overflow  of  Jordan  dislodged  the  lion  from  its  lair 
on  the  wooded  banks.  Between  Merom  and  Lake  Tiberias 
the  banks  are  so  thickly  wooded  as  often  to  shut  out  the 
view  of  the  water. 


THE  JORDAN  341 

Four-fifths  of  Israel,  nine  tribes  and  a  half,  dwelt  west, 
and  one-fifth,  two  and  a  half,  dwelt  east  of  Jordan.  The 
great  altar  built  by  the  latter  was  the  witness  of  the  oneness 
of  the  two  sections.  Of  the  six  cities  of  refuge  three  were 
east,  three  west  of  Jordan  at  equal  distances. 

Jordan  enters  Gennesareth  two  miles  below  the  ancient 
city  Julias,  or  Bethsaida,  of  Gaulonitis  on  the  east  bank.  It 
is  seventy  feet  wide  at  its  mouth,  a  sluggish,  turbid  stream. 
The  lake  of  Tiberias  is  653  feet  below  the  Mediterranean 
level.  The  Dead  Sea  is  1,316  feet  below  the  Mediterra- 
nean, the  springs  of  Hasbeya  are  1,700  above  the  Mediter- 
ranean, so  that  the  valley  falls  more  than  3,000  feet  in 
reaching  the  north  end  of  the  Dead  Sea.  The  bottom  de- 
scends 1,308  feet  lower,  in  all  2,600  below  the  Mediter- 
ranean. The  Jordan,  well  called  "the  Descender,"  de- 
scends eleven  feet  every  mile.  Its  sinuosity  is  less  in  its 
upper  course.  Besides  the  Jabbok  it  receives  the  Hier- 
omax  (TarmuK)  below  Gennesareth.  From  Jerusalem  to 
Jordan  is  only  a  distance  of  twenty  miles  ;  in  that  distance 
the  descent  is  3,500  feet,  one  of  the  greatest  chasms  in 
the  earth;  Jerusalem  is  2,581  feet  above  the  Mediter- 
ranean. 

Bitumen  wells  are  not  far  from  the  Hasbeya  in  the  north. 
Hot  springs  abound  about  Tiberias;  and  other  tokens  of  vol- 
canic action,  tufa,  etc.,  occur  near  the  Yarmuk's  mouth  and 
elsewhere.  Only  on  the  east  border  of  Lake  Huleh,  the 
land  is  now  well  cultivated,  and  yields  largely  wheat,  maize, 
rice,  etc.  Horses,  cattle,  and  sheep,  and  black  buffaloes 
(the  "  bulls  of  Bashan  ")  pasture  around.  West  of  Gennes- 
areth are  seen  corn,  palms,  vines,  figs,  melons,  and  pome- 
granates. Cultivation  is  rare  along  the  lower  Jordan,  but 
pink  oleanders,  arbutus,  rose  hollyhocks,  the  purple  thistle, 


34*  THE  JORDAN 

marigold,  and  anemone  abound.  Tracks  of  tigers  and  wild 
boars,  flocks  of  wild  ducks,  cranes,  and  pigeons  have  been 
seen  by  various  explorers.  There  are  no  bridges  earlier  than 
the  Roman.  The  Saracens  added  or  restored  some.  The 
Roman  bridge  of  ten  arches,  was  on  the  route  from  Tiberias 
to  Gadara.  In  coincidence  with  Scripture,  the  American 
survey  sets  down  three  fords :  that  at  Tarichaea,  the  second 
at  the  Jabbok's  confluence  with  the  Jordan,  and  that  at 
Jericho.  The  Jordan  seldom  now  overflows  its  banks;  but 
Lieutenant  Lynch  noticed  sedge  and  driftwood  high  up  in 
the  overhanging  trees  on  the  banks,  showing  it  still  at  times 
overflows  the  plains.  The  flood  never  reaches  beyond  the 
lower  line  of  the  Ghor,  which  is  covered  with  vegetation. 
The  plain  of  the  Jordan  between  the  Sea  of  Galilee  and  the 
Dead  Sea  is  generally  eight  miles  broad,  but  at  the  north 
end  of  the  Dead  Sea  the  hills  recede  so  that  the  width  is 
twelve  miles,  of  which  the  west  part  is  named  "  the  plains 
of  Jericho."  The  upper  terrace  immediately  under  the 
hills  is  covered  with  vegetation  ;  under  that  is  the  Arabah 
or  desert  plain,  barren  in  its  southern  part  except  where 
springs  fertilize  it,  but  fertile  in  its  northern  part  and  culti- 
vated by  irrigation.  Grove  remarks  of  the  Jordan :  "  So 
rapid  that  its  course  is  one  continued  cataract,  so  crooked  that 
in  its  whole  lower  and  main  course  it  has  hardly  a  half  mile 
straight,  so  broken  with  rapids  that  no  boat  can  swim  any 
distance  continuously,  so  deep  below  the  adjacent  country 
that  it  is  invisible  and  can  only  be  with  difficulty  approached ; 
refusing  all  communication  with  the  ocean,  and  ending  in  a 
lake  where  navigation  is  impossible,  unless  for  irrigation, 
it  is  in  fact  what  its  Arabic  name  signifies,  nothing  but  a 
4  great  watering  place,'  Sheriat  el  Khebir." 


THE  CONCORD 

HENRY  D.  THOREAU 

THE  Musketaquid,  or  Grass-ground  River,  though 
probably  as  old  as  the  Nile  or  Euphrates,  did  not  be- 
gin to  have  a  place  in  civilized  history,  until  the  fame  of  its 
grassy  meadows  and  its  fish  attracted  settlers  out  of  Eng- 
land in  1635,  when  it  received  the  other  but  kindred  name 
of  Concord  from  the  first  plantation  on  its  banks,  which  ap- 
pears to  have  been  commenced  in  a  spirit  of  peace  and  har- 
mony. It  will  be  Grass-ground  River  as  long  as  grass 
grows  and  water  runs  here ;  it  will  be  Concord  River  only 
while  men  lead  peaceable  lives  on  its  banks.  To  an  extinct 
race  it  was  grass-ground,  where  they  hunted  and  fished,  and 
is  still  perennial  grass-ground  to  Concord  farmers,  who  own 
the  great  meadows,  and  get  the  hay  from  year  to  year. 
"  One  branch  of  it,"  according  to  the  historian  of  Con- 
cord, for  I  love  to  quote  so  good  authority,  "  rises  in  the 
south  part  of  Hopkinton,  and  another  from  a  pond  and  a 
large  cedar-swamp  in  Westborough,"  and  flowing  between 
Hopkinton  and  Southborough,  through  Framingham,  and 
between  Sudbury  and  Wayland,  where  it  is  sometimes 
called  Sudbury  River,  it  enters  Concord  at  the  south  part 
of  the  town,  and  after  receiving  the  North  or  Assabeth 
River,  which  has  its  source  a  little  farther  to  the  north  and 
west,  goes  out  at  the  north-east  angle,  and  flowing  between 
Bedford  and  Carlisle,  and  through  Billerica,  empties  into  the 
Merrimack  at  Lowell.  Between  Sudbury  and  Wayland  the 


344  THE  CONCORD 

meadows  acquire  their  greatest  breadth,  and  when  covered 
with  water,  they  form  a  handsome  chain  of  shallow  vernal 
lakes,  resorted  to  by  numerous  gulls  and  ducks.  Just  above 
Sherman's  Bridge,  between  these  towns,  is  the  largest  ex- 
panse, and  when  the  wind  blows  freshly  in  a  raw  March 
day,  heaving  up  the  surface  into  dark  and  sober  billows  or 
regular  swells,  skirted  as  it  is  in  the  distance  with  alder- 
swamps  and  smoke-like  maples,  it  looks  like  a  smaller  Lake 
Huron,  and  is  very  pleasant  and  exciting  for  a  landsman  to 
row  or  sail  over.  The  farmhouses  along  the  Sudbury 
shore,  which  rises  gently  to  a  considerable  height,  command 
fine  water  prospects  at  this  season.  The  shore  is  more  flat 
on  the  Wayland  side  and  this  town  is  the  greatest  loser  by 
the  flood.  Its  farmers  tell  me  that  thousands  of  acres  are 
flooded  now,  since  the  dams  have  been  erected,  where  they 
remember  to  have  seen  the  white  honeysuckle  or  clover 
growing  once,  and  they  could  go  dry  with  shoes  only  in 
summer.  Now  there  is  nothing  but  blue-joint  and  sedge 
and  cut-grass  there,  standing  in  water  all  the  year  round. 
For  a  long  time,  they  made  the  most  of  the  driest  season  to 
get  their  hay,  working  sometimes  till  nine  o'clock  at  night, 
sedulously  paring  with  their  scythes  in  the  twilight  round 
the  hummocks  left  by  the  ice;  but  now  it  is  not  worth  the 
getting  when  they  can  come  at  it  and  they  look  sadly  round 
to  their  wood-lots  and  upland  as  a  last  resource. 

It  is  worth  the  while  to  make  a  voyage  up  this  stream, 
if  you  go  no  farther  than  Sudbury,  only  to  see  how  much 
country  there  is  in  the  rear  of  us ;  great  hills,  and  a  hun- 
dred brooks,  and  farmhouses,  and  barns,  and  haystacks, 
you  never  saw  before,  and  men  everywhere.  Sudbury, 
that  is  Southborough  men,  and  Wayland,  and  Nine-Acre- 
Corner  men,  and  Bound  Rock,  where  four  towns  bound  on 


THE  CONCORD  345 

a  rock  in  the  river,  Lincoln,  Wayland,  Sudbury,  Concord. 
Many  waves  are  there  agitated  by  the  wind,  keeping  nature 
fresh,  the  spray  blowing  in  your  face,  reeds  and  rushes 
waving;  ducks  by  the  hundred,  all  uneasy  in  the  surf,  in 
the  raw  wind,  just  ready  to  rise,  and  now  going  off  with  a 
clatter  and  a  whistling  like  riggers  straight  from  Labrador, 
flying  against  the  stiff  gale  with  reefed  wings,  or  else  circling 
round  first,  with  all  their  paddles  briskly  moving,  just  over 
the  surf,  to  reconnoitre  you  before  they  leave  these  parts ; 
gulls  wheeling  overhead,  muskrats  swimming  for  dear  life, 
wet  and  cold,  with  no  fire  to  warm  them  by  that  you  know 
of;  their  laboured  homes  rising  here  and  there  like  hay- 
stacks ;  and  countless  mice  and  moles  and  winged  titmice 
along  the  sunny,  windy  shore ;  cranberries  tossed  on  the 
waves  and  heaving  up  on  the  beach,  their  little  red  skiffs 
beating  about  among  the  alders ; — such  natural  tumult  as 
proves  the  last  day  is  not  yet  at  hand.  And  there  stands  all 
around  the  alders,  and  birches,  and  oaks,  and  maples,  full 
of  glee  and  sap,  holding  in  their  buds,  until  the  waters  sub- 
side. You  shall  perhaps  run  aground  on  Cranberry  Island, 
only  some  spires  of  last  year's  pipe-grass  above  water,  to 
show  where  the  danger  is,  and  get  as  good  a  freezing  there 
as  anywhere  on  the  North-west  Coast.  I  never  voyaged  so 
far  in  all  my  life.  You  shall  see  men  you  never  heard  of 
before,  whose  names  you  don't  know,  going  away  down 
through  the  meadows  with  long  ducking-guns,  with  water- 
tight boots  wading  through  the  fowl-meadow  grass,  on 
bleak,  wintry,  distant  shores,  with  guns  at  half-cock,  and 
they  shall  see  teal,  blue-winged,  green-winged,  shelldrakes, 
whistlers,  black  ducks,  ospreys,  and  many  other  wild  and 
noble  sights  before  night,  such  as  they  who  sit  in  parlours 
never  dream  of.  You  shall  see  rude  and  sturdy,  experienced 


34^  THE  CONCORD 

men,  keeping  their  castles,  or  teaming  up  their  summer's 
wood,  or  chopping  alone  in  the  woods,  men  fuller  of  talk 
and  rare  adventure  in  the  sun  and  wind  and  rain,  than  a 
chestnut  is  of  meat;  who  were  out  not  only  in  '75  and 
1812,  but  have  been  out  every  day  of  their  lives;  greater 
men  than  Homer,  or  Chaucer,  or  Shakespeare,  only  they 
never  got  time  to  say  so ;  they  never  took  to  the  way  of 
writing.  Look  at  their  fields,  and  imagine  what  they  might 
write,  if  ever  they  should  put  pen  to  paper.  Or  what  have 
they  not  written  on  the  face  of  the  earth  already,  clearing, 
and  burning,  and  scratching,  and  harrowing,  and  ploughing, 
and  subsoiling,  in  and  in,  and  out  and  out,  and  over  and 
over,  again  and  again,  erasing  what  they  had  already  written 
for  want  of  parchment. 

As  yesterday  and  the  historical  ages  are  past,  as  the  work 
of  to-day  is  present,  so  some  flitting  perspectives,  and  demi- 
experiences  of  the  life  that  is  in  nature  are  in  time  veritably 
future,  or  rather  outside  to  time,  perennial,  young,  divine, 
in  the  wind  and  rain  which  never  die. 


The  respectable  folks, — 

Where  dwell  they  ? 

They  whisper  in  the  oaks, 

And  they  sigh  in  the  hay ; 

Summer  and  winter,  night  and  day, 

Out  en  the  meadow,  there  dwell  they. 

They  never  die, 

Nor  snivel,  nor  cry, 

Nor  ask  our  pity 

With  a  wet  eye. 

A  sound  estate  they  never  mend, 

To  every  asker  readily  lend  ; 


THE  CONCORD  347 

To  the  ocean  wealth, 

To  the  meadow  health, 

To  Time  his  length, 

To  the  rocks  strength, 

To  the  stars  light, 

To  the  weary  night, 

To  the  busy  day, 

To  the  idle  play ; 

And  so  their  good  cheer  never  ends, 

For  all  are  their  debtors,  and  all  their  friends. 

Concord  River  is  remarkable  for  the  gentleness  of  its 
current,  which  is  scarcely  perceptible,  and  some  have  re- 
ferred to  its  influence  the  proverbial  moderation  of  the  in- 
habitants of  Concord,  as  exhibited  in  the  Revolution,  and 
on  later  occasions.  It  has  been  proposed,  that  the  town 
should  adopt  for  its  coat  of  arms  a  field  verdant,  with  the 
Concord  circling  nine  times  around.  I  have  read  that  a 
descent  of  an  eighth  of  an  inch  in  a  mile  is  sufficient  to 
produce  a  flow.  Our  river  has,  probably,  very  near  the 
smallest  allowance.  The  story  is  current,  at  any  rate, 
though  I  believe  that  strict  history  will  bear  it  out,  that  the 
only  bridge  ever  carried  away  on  the  main  branch,  within 
the  limits  of  the  town,  was  driven  up  stream  by  the  wind. 
But  wherever  it  makes  a  sudden  bend  it  is  shallower  and 
swifter,  and  asserts  its  title  to  be  called  a  river.  Compared 
with  the  other  tributaries  of  the  Merrimack,  it  appears  to 
have  been  properly  named  Musketaquid,  or  Meadow  River, 
by  the  Indians.  For  the  most  part,  it  creeps  through  broad 
meadows,  adorned  with  scattered  oaks,  where  the  cranberry 
is  found  in  abundance,  covering  the  ground  like  a  moss-bed. 
A  row  of  sunken  dwarf  willows  borders  the  stream  on  one 
or  both  sides,  while  at  a  greater  distance  the  meadow  is 


348  THE  CONCORD 

skirted  with  maples,  alders,  and  other  fluviatile  trees,  overrun 
with  the  grape-vine,  which  bears  fruit  in  its  season,  purple, 
red,  white,  and  other  grapes.  Still  farther  from  the  stream, 
on  the  edge  of  the  firm  land,  are  seen  the  gray  and  white 
dwellings  of  the  inhabitants. 

The  sluggish  artery  of  the  Concord  meadows  steals  thus 
unobserved  through  the  town,  without  a  murmur  or  a  pulse 
beat,  its  general  course  from  south-west  to  north-east,  and 
its  length  about  fifty  miles  j  a  huge  volume  of  matter, 
ceaselessly  rolling  through  the  plains  and  valleys  of  the 
substantial  earth  with  the  moccasined  tread  of  an  Indian 
Warrior,  making  haste  from  the  high  places  of  the  earth  to 
its  ancient  reservoir.  The  murmurs  of  many  a  famous 
river  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe  reach  even  to  us  here, 
as  to  more  distant  dwellers  on  its  banks ;  many  a  poet's 
stream  floating  the  helms  and  shields  of  heroes  on  its  bosom. 
The  Xanthus  or  Scamander  is  not  a  mere  dry  channel  and 
bed  of  a  mountain  torrent,  but  fed  by  the  overflowing 
springs  of  fame  ;  — 

«« And  thou  Simois,  that  as  an  arrowe,  clere 
Through  Troy  rennest,  aie  downward  to  the  sea";  — 

and  I  trust  that  I  may  be  allowed  to  associate  our  muddy 
but  much  abused  Concord  River  with  the  most  famous  in 
history. 

*'  Sure  there  are  poets  which  did  never  dream 
Upon  Parnassus,  nor  did  taste  the  stream 
Of  Helicon  ;  we  therefore  may  suppose 
Those  made  not  poets,  but  the  poets  those.*' 

The  Mississippi,  the  Gange?    "Xid  the  Nile,  those  journey- 


THE  CONCORD  349 

ing  atoms  from  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the  Himmaleh, 
and  Mountains  of  the  Moon,  have  a  kind  of  personal  im- 
portance in  the  annals  of  the  world.  The  heavens  are  not 
yet  drained  over  their  sources,  but  the  Mountains  of  the 
Moon  still  send  their  annual  tribute  to  the  Pasha  without 
fail,  as  they  did  to  the  Pharaohs,  though  he  must  collect  the 
rest  of  his  revenue  at  the  point  of  the  sword.  Rivers  must 
have  been  the  guides  which  conducted  the  footsteps  of  the 
first  travellers.  They  are  the  constant  lure,  when  they 
flow  by  our  doors,  to  distant  enterprise  and  adventure,  and, 
by  a  natural  impulse,  the  dwellers  on  their  banks  will  at 
length  accompany  their  currents  to  the  lowlands  of  the 
globe,  or  explore  at  their  invitation  the  interior  of  conti- 
nents. They  are  the  natural  highways  of  all  nations,  not 
only  levelling  the  ground  and  removing  obstacles  from  the 
path  of  the  traveller,  quenching  his  thirst  and  bearing  him 
on  their  bosoms,  but  conducting  him  through  the  most  in- 
teresting scenery,  the  most  populous  portions  of  the  globe, 
and  where  the  animal  and  vegetable  kingdoms  attain  their 
greatest  perfection. 

I  had  often  stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Concord,  watching 
the  lapse  of  the  current,  an  emblem  of  all  progress,  follow- 
ing the  same  law  with  the  system,  with  time,  and  all  that 
is  made  ;  the  weeds  at  the  bottom  gently  bending  down  the 
stream,  shaken  by  the  watery  wind,  still  planted  where 
their  seeds  had  sunk,  but  erelong  to  die  and  go  down  like- 
wise ;  the  shining  pebbles,  not  yet  anxious  to  better  their 
condition,  the  chips  and  weeds,  and  occasional  logs  and 
stems  of  trees  that  floated  past,  fulfilling  their  fate,  were 
objects  of  singular  interest  to  me,  and  at  last  I  resolved  to 
launch  myself  on  its  bosom  and  float  whither  it  would  bear 


THE  TAGUS 

ARTHUR  SHADWELL  MARTIN 

THE  Tagus  rises  in  that  maze  of  mountains  between 
Cuenca  and  Tereul  on  the  frontier  of  New  Castile 
and  Aragon.  It  is  the  largest  river  of  the  Iberian  peninsula, 
having  a  length  of  566  miles.  It  is  of  little  commercial 
advantage,  however,  as  a  means  of  traffic  and  communica- 
tion, because  in  Spain  its  shallows,  rapids  and  cataracts 
render  it  unnavigable  through  much  of  its  course;  and  only 
from  Villavelha,  eighteen  miles  within  the  Portuguese  fron- 
tier does  it  become  navigable  for  the  remaining  115  miles 
to  its  mouth.  It  flows  from  its  source  first  north-west- 
wards for  about  thirty  miles  to  its  junction  with  the  Gallo, 
where  it  turns  to  the  south-west  to  Toledo,  whence  it  flows 
westwards  to  the  frontier  of  Portugal  at  Abrantes.  There 
it  again  curves  south-westwards  and  falls  into  the  Atlantic 
ten  miles  below  Lisbon. 

The  waves  of  the  Tagus,  according  to  ancient  historians, 
rolled  with  gold ;  it  is  even  said  that  the  sceptre  of  the 
kings  of  Portugal  is  made  of  the  gold  dust  found  in  the  de- 
posit of  this  river.  However,  the  Tagus  is  not  now  en- 
dowed with  this  auriferous  virtue  ;  and  its  banks  in  no- 
wise deserve  the  brilliant  descriptions  indulged  in  by  ancient 
and  modern  poets.  They  are  generally  escarpments  and 
rocky  gorges.  The  traveller,  who  follows  the  course  of 
the  stream  through  a  country  often  bare,  arid  and  unculti- 
vated, or  burnt  up  by  the  sultry  rays  of  the  sun,  sees  little 


THE  TAGUS  351 

but  an  impetuous  water  course,  narrow  and  impeded  with 
dangerous  rocks,  forming  dangerous  cataracts  and  rapids. 
The  rocky  cliffs  that  hem  it  in  have  little  vegetation  be- 
yond a  few  evergreen  oaks ;  and  with  a  few  rare  excep- 
tions, notably  the  valleys  of  Aranjuez  and  Talavera,  which 
have  been  embellished  with  human  art  and  culture  there 
are  few  parts  of  Spain  so  poor  and  savage  in  character.  In 
winter,  the  Tagus  has  a  considerable  rise,  and  covers  the 
few  plains  to  be  found  along  its  banks ;  but  in  summer, 
like  most  of  the  other  Spanish  rivers  it  dwindles  to  almost 
nothing  ;  so  that  even  below  Santarem,  from  Alcantara  to 
the  confluence  of  the  Zezere,  navigation  is  interrupted  by 
numerous  cataracts. 

"  Of  the  various  phases  of  its  most  poetical  and  pictur- 
esque course — first  green  and  arrowy  amid  the  yellow  corn- 
fields of  New  Castile  ;  then  freshening  the  sweet  Tempe  of 
Aranjuez,  clothing  the  garden  with  verdure,  and  filling  the 
nightingale-tenanted  glens  with  groves;  then  boiling  and 
rushing  around  the  granite  ravines  of  rock-built  Toledo, 
hurrying  to  escape  from  the  cold  shadows  of  its  deep  prison, 
and  dashing  joyously  into  light  and  liberty,  to  wander  far 
away  into  silent  plains  and  on  to  Talavera,  where  its  waters 
were  dyed  with  brave  blood,  and  gladly  reflected  the  flash 
of  the  victorious  bayonets  of  England, — triumphantly  it 
rolls  thence,  under  the  shattered  arches  of  Almaraz,  down 
to  desolate  Estremadura,  in  a  stream  as  tranquil  as  the 
azure  sky  by  which  it  is  curtained,  yet  powerful  enough  to 
force  the  mountains  of  Alcantara.  There  the  bridge  of 
Trajan  is  worth  going  a  hundred  miles  to  see ;  it  stems  the 
now  fierce  condensed  stream,  and  ties  the  rocky  gorges  to- 
gether; grand,  simple,  and  solid,  >  tinted  by  the  tender 
colours  of  seventeen  centuries,  it  looms  like  the  grey 


352  THE  TAGUS 

skeleton  of  Roman  power,  with  all  the  sentiment  of  loneli- 
ness, magnitude,  and  the  interest  of  the  past  and  present. 

"  How  stern,  solemn,  and  striking  is  this  Tagus  of  Spain  ! 
No  commerce  has  ever  made  it  its  highway — no  English 
steamer  has  ever  civilized  its  waters  like  those  of  France 
and  Germany.  Its  rocks  have  witnessed  battles,  not  peace ; 
have  reflected  castles  and  dungeons,  not  quays  or  ware- 
houses :  few  cities  have  risen  on  its  banks,  as  on  those  of 
the  Thames  and  Rhine ;  it  is  truly  a  river  of  Spain — that 
isolated  and  solitary  land.  Its  waters  are  without  boats,  its 
banks  without  life ;  man  has  never  laid  his  hand  upon  its 
billows,  nor  enslaved  their  free  and  independent  gambols." 

Travellers  and  tourists  never  take  in  the  river  as  a  whole, 
but  content  themselves  with  keeping  to  the  railroad,  and 
visiting  the  more  famous  towns  on  the  banks, — such  as 
Toledo,  Talavera,  Aranjuez,  Abrantes  and  Lisbon. 

At  Toledo,  the  Tagus  ages  ago  forced  its  way  through 
a  romantic,  rocky  pass,  2,400  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea.  The  walls  of  the  gorge  are  200  feet  high.  This 
ancient  city  stands  on  the  north  bank  of  the  river  which 
washes  its  walls  on  three  sides  and  forms  the  great  pro- 
tection of  the  stronghold.  Rushing  around  it,  on  the  east, 
south  and  west,  between  rocky  cliffs,  it  leaves  only  one 
approach  on  the  land  side,  which  is  defended  by  an  inner 
and  an  outer  wall.  Its  magnificent  cathedral  still  repays 
a  visit  notwithstanding  the  vandalism  of  its  foes.  The 
river,  after  passing  Toledo,  runs  through  a  deep  and 
long  valley,  walled  up  on  either  hand  by  lofty  mountains. 
Those  on  the  right  bank  are  always  capped  with  snow, 
and  ranging  nearly  parallel  with  the  course  of  the  stream, 
divide  the  valley  of  the  Tagus  from  Old  Castile  and  the 
Salamanca  country  ;  the  highest  parts  are  known  by  the 


THE  TAGUS  353 

names  of  the  Sierra  de  Credos,  Sierra  de  Bejar,  and  Sierra 
de  Gata.  In  these  sierras  the  Alberche,  the  Tietar,  and 
the  Alagon,  take  their  rise,  and,  ploughing  the  valley  in  a 
slanting  direction,  fall  into  the  Tagus. 

Talavera  de  la  Reyna  is  a  delapidated  ancient  town 
surrounded  with  interesting  old  walls,  and  abounding  in 
antique  picturesque  fragments.  It  is  situated  on  the  Tagus, 
seventy-five  miles  south-west  of  Madrid,  in  the  centre  of  a 
fruit-growing  district.  It  is  famous  for  the  great  battle 
fought  there  in  1809  in  which  the  French  suffered  a  great 
defeat  by  Wellington. 

Aranjuez  is  on  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  twenty-eight 
miles  south-west  of  Madrid,  in  a  beautifully  wooded  valley. 
Here,  for  once,  the  stream  runs  smoothly  between  smiling 
banks. 

Abrantes  is  finely  situated  on  the  river  seventy  miles 
above  Lisbon.  Its  surrounding  hills  are  covered  with 
vineyards  and  olive  groves  ;  it  is  strongly  fortified,  and  was 
an  important  position  during  the  Peninsula  war.  Marshal 
Junot  took  this  city  as  the  title  of  his  Dukedom. 

Lisbon  is  built  partly  on  the  right  bank  of  the  Tagus  and 
partly  on  hills  behind.  It  extends  for  five  miles  along  the 
estuary,  which  here  forms  a  safe  and  spacious  harbour. 

The  principal  affluents  of  this  neglected  river  are  the 
Jarama,  Guaddarama,  Alberche,  Alagon  and  Zezere  from 
the  north,  and  the  Guadiela  and  Rio  del  Monte  from  the 
south. 


THE  INDUS 

EDWARD  BALFOUR 

THE  source  of  the  Indus  is  in  latitude  31°  20'  north, 
and  longitude  80°  30'  east,  at  an  estimated  height 
of  17,000  feet,  to  the  north-west  of  Lakes  Manasarowara 
and  Ravvan  H'rad  in  the  southern  slopes  of  the  Gangri  or 
Kailas  Mountains,  a  short  way  to  the  eastwards  of  Gartop 
(Garo).  The  Garo  river  is  the  Sing-ge-chu  or  Indus. 
From  the  lofty  mountains  round  Lake  Manasarowara, 
spring  the  Indus,  the  Sutlej,  the  Gogra,  and  the 
Brahmaputra.  A  few  miles  from  Leh,  about  a  mile  above 
Nimo,  the  Indus  is  joined  by  the  Zanskar  river.  The 
valley  where  the  two  rivers  unite  is  very  rocky  and  pre- 
cipitous, and  bends  a  long  way  to  the  south.  From  this 
point  the  course  of  the  Indus,  in  front  of  Leh  and  to  the 
south-east  for  many  miles,  runs  through  a  wide  valley,  but 
the  range  of  the  mountains  to  the  north  sends  down  many 
rugged  spurs.  A  little  lower,  the  Indus  is  a  tranquil  but 
somewhat  rapid  stream,  divided  into  several  branches  by 
gravelly  islands,  generally  swampy,  and  covered  with  low 
Hippophae  scrub.  The  size  of  the  river  there  is  very 
much  less  than  below  the  junction  of  the  river  of  Zanskar. 
The  bed  of  the  Indus  at  Pitak,  below  Leh,  has  an  elevation 
of  about  10,500  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  but  the 
town  is  at  least  1,300  feet  higher.  From  the  sudden  melt- 
ing of  accumulations  of  ice,  and  from  temporary  obstacles, 
occasioned  by  glaciers  and  avalanches  in  its  upper  course, 


THE  INDUS  355 

this  river  is  subject  to  irregularities,  and  especially  to 
debacles  or  cataclysms,  one  of  which,  in  June,  1841,  pro- 
duced terrific  devastation  along  its  course,  down  even  to 
Attock. 

At  the  confluence  of  Sinh-ka-bab  with  the  Shayok,  the 
principal  river  which  joins  it  on  the  north  from  the  Kara- 
Korum  Mountains,  the  river  takes  the  name  of  Aba-Sin, 
Father  of  Rivers,  or  Indus  proper,  and  flows  then  between 
lofty  rocks,  which  confine  its  furious  waters,  receiving  the 
tribute  of  various  streams ;  and  at  Acho,  expanding  into  a 
broader  surface,  it  reaches  Derbend,  the  north-west  angle 
of  the  Panjab,  where  (about  815  miles  from  its  source)  it  is 
100  yards  wide  in  August,  its  fullest  season.  From 
Derbend  it  traverses  a  plain,  in  a  broad  channel  of  no  great 
depth  in  Attock,  in  latitude  33°  54'  north,  longitude  72°  18' 
east,  having  about  200  yards  above  this  place  received  the 
river  of  Kabul,  almost  equal  in  breadth  and  volume,  and 
attains  a  width  of  286  yards,  with  a  rapid  boiling  current, 
running  (in  August)  at  the  rate  of  six  miles  an  hour.  The 
breadth  of  the  Indus  at  Attock  depends  not  only  upon  the 
season  but  the  state  of  the  river  upwards,  and  varies  from 
100  to  260  yards.  The  whole  length  of  its  mountain 
course,  from  its  source  to  Attock,  is  about  1,035  miles,  and 
the  whole  fall  is  16,000  feet,  or  15.4  per  mile.  From 
Attock  to  the  sea  the  length  is  942  miles,  making  its 
whole  length,  from  the  Kailas  Mountains  to  the  Indian 
Ocean,  1,977  miles-  Its  maximum  discharge,  above  the 
confluence  of  the  Panjab  or  Five  Rivers,  occurs  in  July  and 
August,  when  it  is  swollen  by  the  seasonal  rains,  and  it 
then  reaches  135,000  cubic  feet,  falling  to  its  minimum  of 
15,000  in  December. 

In   the   Tibetan  of  Sadakh  it  is  commonly  designated 


356  THE  INDUS 

Tsang-po,  or  the  river,  and  is  the  Lampo-ho  of  the  Chinese 
Pilgrim,  Hiwen  Thsang,  who  travelled  in  the  middle  of  the 
Seventh  Century. 

Below  the  junction  of  the  Panjab  rivers  down  to  Schwan, 
the  Indus  takes  the  name  of  Sar,  Siro,  or  Sira ;  from  below 
Hyderabad  to  the  sea  it  is  called  Lar,  and  the  intermediate 
portion  is  called  Wicholo  (Bich,  Hindi),  or  Central,  repre- 
senting the  district  lying  immediately  around  Hyderabad, 
just  as,  on  the  Nile,  the  Wustani,  or  Midlands  of  the 
Arabs,  represents  the  tract  between  Upper  and  Lower 
Egypt.  Sir  A.  Burnes  mentions  that  Sar  and  Lar  are  two 
Baluch  words  for  north  and  south.  The  Indus  or  Sind  has 
been  called  by  that  name  from  time  immemorial  to  the 
present  day,  by  the  races  on  its  banks.  The  ancients  knew 
that  this  was  the  native  appellation.  Pliny  (lib.  6,  vi), 
says,  "  Indus  incolis  Sindus  appellatus."  The  Chinese  call 
the  river  Sin-tow. 

From  Attock  the  course  of  the  Indus  to  the  sea,  940 
miles,  is  south  and  south-west,  sometimes  along  a  rocky 
channel,  between  high  and  perpendicular  cliffs,  or  forcing 
its  way,  tumbling  and  roaring,  amidst  huge  boulders,  the 
immense  body  of  water  being  pent  within  a  narrow  chan- 
nel, causing  occasional  whirlpools,  dangerous  to  navigation, 
to  Kalabagh,  in  latitude  32°  57'  north,  longitude  71°  36' 
east,  situated  in  a  gorge  of  the  great  Salt  Range,  through 
which  the  river  rushes  forth  into  the  plain.  In  this  part  of 
its  course  it  has  acquired  the  name  of  Nil-ab,  or  Blue 
Water,  from  the  colour  imparted  to  it  by  the  blue  limestone 
hills  through  which  it  flows.  There  are  some  remains  of 
a  town  on  the  bank  of  the  river,  named  Nil-ab  (where 
Timur  crossed  the  Indus)  supposed  to  be  the  Naulibus  or 
Naulibe  of  Ptolemy.  At  Kalabagh  the  Indus  enters  a  level 


THE  INDUS  357 

country,  having  for  a  short  time  the  Khursuri  Hills,  which 
rise  abruptly  on  the  right.  It  now  becomes  muddy,  and  as 
far  as  Mittunkote,  about  350  miles,  the  banks  being  low, 
the  river,  when  it  rises,  inundates  the  country  sometimes  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  Hence  the  channels  are  contin- 
ually changing,  and  the  soil  of  the  country  being  soft — a 
mud  basin,  as  Lieutenant  Wood  terms  it, — the  banks  and 
bed  of  the  river  are  undergoing  constant  alterations. 
These  variations,  added  to  the  shoals,  and  the  terrific  blasts 
occasionally  encountered  in  this  part  of  the  river,  are  great 
impediments  to  navigation.  The  population  on  its  banks 
are  almost  amphibious ;  they  launch  upon  its  surface, 
sustained  by  the  inflated  skins  or  mussaks,  dried  gourds,  and 
empty  jars  used  for  catching  the  celebrated  pulla  fish,  the 
Hilsa  of  Bengal.  At  Mittunkote  the  Indus  is  often  2,000 
yards  broad,  and  near  this  place,  in  latitude  28°  55'  north, 
longitude  70°  28'  east,  it  is  joined,  without  violence,  by  the 
Panjnad,  a  large  navigable  stream,  the  collected  waters  of  the 
Sutlej,  Beas,  Ravi,  Chenab,  and  Jhelum.  Its  true  chan- 
nel, then  a  mile  and  a  quarter  wide,  flows  thence  through 
Sind,  sometimes  severed  into  distinct  streams,  and  discharges 
its  different  branches  by  various  mouths  into  the  Indian 
Ocean,  after  a  course  of  1,977  m^es-  The  Indus,  when 
joined  by  the  Panjnad,  never  shallows,  in  the  dry  season,  to 
less  than  fifteen  feet,  and  seldom  preserves  so  great  a  breadth 
as  half  a  mile.  Keeled  boats  are  not  suited  to  its  naviga- 
tion, as  they  are  liable  to  be  upset.  The  Zoruk,  or  native 
boat,  is  flat-bottomed.  Other  boats  are  the  Dundi,  Dund, 
Kotal,  and  Jumpti.  Gold  is  found  in  some  parts  of  the 
sands  of  the  Indus. 

The  shore  of  its  delta,  about  125  miles  in  extent,  is  low 
and  flat,  and  at  high  tide,  to  a  considerable  distance  inland, 


35^  THE  INDUS 

overflowed}  and  generally  a  succession  of  dreary,  bare 
swamps. 

In  the  mouths  of  the  Indus,  the  tides  rise  about  nine  feet 
at  full  moon,  and  flow  and  ebb  with  great  violence,  partic- 
ularly near  the  sea,  when  they  flood  and  abandon  the  banks 
with  incredible  velocity.  At  seventy-five  miles  from  the 
ocean  they  cease  to  be  perceptible. 

Between  the  Seer  and  Kori  mouths,  at  the  south-east  of 
the  delta,  it  is  overspread  with  low  mangrove  jungle,  run- 
ning far  into  the  sea,  and  from  the  Seer  is  a  bare,  unin- 
habited marsh.  The  main  stream  of  the  Indus  has  dis- 
charged its  waters  at  many  points  between  Cape  Monze, 
immediately  west  of  Kurachee  and  gulf  of  Cutch,  if  not  even 
that  of  Cambay.  Pitti,  Hajamri,  and  Kediwari,  now  sea- 
channels  and  tidal  creeks,  shut  off  from  the  river,  except 
during  the  monsoon,  are  all  former  mouths  of  the  Indus. 
The  Buggaur  or  Gharra  is  still  a  considerable  stream  dur- 
ing the  inundation ;  it  takes  off  from  the  Indus  close  to 
Tatta. 


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